Ward
by Rat Insatiable
Summary: Zim is entrusted with a smeet as part of the Invader Apprenticeship Program. Naturally, the Tallest have given him the privilege of being the program's first mentor.
1. Zim Versus Smeet

"So, since you're the only Invader still working on your mission..." Tallest Red folded his spindly fingers together, grinning at the screen. "That makes _you_ the perfect candidate."

Zim perked an antenna. "Perfect? Why, yes. Yes I am." A satisfied pause. "Wait, what do you mean I'm the only one still—"

"The Invader Apprenticeship Program!" Tallest Purple spread his arms wide, catching Red on the chin with an oval gauntlet, and sending him to the floor. "We send you a smeet, you teach it the ways of invading, and... good stuff happens!"

Red got to his feet, rubbed his chin, and shot Purple a sour look. That gave Zim time to shake off his astonishment. "I couldn't be more honored, my Tallest. But acquiring the necessary facilities for my base on such short notice might be—"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Red glanced at Purple, who shared his grin. "The gestation tube should arrive at your location any day now. It comes with a Pak, so have fun activating it. We're counting on you, soldier."

"So it's not even—" The screen went dark. "My Tallest?"

The base jolted as something crashed aboveground.

* * *

The gestation tube—thick glass with two metal bracers and no openings—had cratered into Zim's front walk unscathed, thanks to the airtight metal crate taking the brunt of it. After liberal application of a plasma crowbar to pry off its entry-burnt exterior, it made an excellent distraction for GIR.

While the little robot crammed packing peanuts in his mouth, Zim inspected the contents of the tube. He had it suspended between two robotic arms deep within the base, and walked in slow, scrutinizing circles beneath it. No defects showed from inside the green translucent liquid; just a fully-developed juvenile Irken, ready for activation.

Zim returned to the crate and jumped in. He hunted around in the styrofoam until his hands met cold, curved metal. He hopped out, flicked packing material off his antennae, and carried a dormant Pak to the main console.

The Pak showed no data upon inspection, besides built-in life support and memory backup functions. Nothing unusual, as smeets were pumped with the whole of Irken knowledge mere minutes after Pak attachment.

Zim touched two keys on the console. "A copy of my Pak data should more than suffice. It's even _better_ than the whole of Irken knowledge!"

A metal tube snaked down from the ceiling, lampreyed onto Zim's Pak, and lifted him off the floor a few feet. An identical attachment connected with the smeet's Pak. Zim input the command, hit Confirm, and got buzzed at.

"Yeah, no, that's not gonna work," said the base computer.

Zim peered in the direction of the disembodied drone. "What? But why?!"

"The new Pak blocked the connection. Something about stopping an influx of corrupt data."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Zim growled and kicked the air. "_Fine!_ Cancel the procedure." He detached and landed on his feet, while the tubes snaked back into the mess of pipes overhead.

Grumbling, Zim opened a console panel, and started connecting wires to the new Pak. "A copy of my database will have to do for now." He pressed a button, and the transfer began without a hitch. "It's loaded with three years' worth of invasion information, anyway."

* * *

With the Pak ready, and a spinal drill built from online blueprints, Zim faced the gestation tube suspended in midair. GIR, Minimoose, and Skoodge stood in attendance behind him.

"Computer," Zim said, ready by the console. "Break the tube."

The triple-pronged robot arms, moving for the first time in sixteen hours, clanged the tube against the floor. A crack appeared, the tube split, and the insensate smeet plopped to the floor in a surge of green fluid.

Zim operated the spinal drill from the console. The machine lowered from the ceiling and jabbed the smeet's back, boring two precise holes in its spine. Another button press, and a mechanical arm shoved the Pak into place.

Zim ran up to the smeet, and pressed the top spot of its Pak inward. A quartet of different-colored, touch-sensitive buttons appeared. He tapped out a manual activation code, each button flashing in sequence. Considering the staggering price of a Life-Giving Surge Cannon, hacking for the code proved more efficient.

The buttons all lit up at once. Zim stepped back as they vanished.

"_Activating,_" the Pak intoned, and jolted its fleshy shell to life.

Blue electricity arced, then faded, leaving the room silent. The smeet remained prostrate.

Zim chanced a step forward. The smeet's notched antennae perked straight up, and it sprang to its feet.

Zim twitched, standing behind the smeet, then adopted a stiff military posture. "Welcome to your life, smeet. I am _Zim_, and you will obey my every order from this moment onward." He folded his hands behind his back, while the smeet stared at Skoodge, standing with GIR and Minimoose nearby. Skoodge smiled and waved. "As your first assignment, you will give me a status report. Now!"

On that command, the smeet did a swift about-face in the direction of Zim's voice. Round jade eyes practically dominated its pale green face as it fixated on the other Irken.

"I'm good!" The smeet spoke with squeaky enunciation and a big smile. "_Real_ good!"

Zim regarded the tiny creature staring into his eyes. It was no taller than GIR. "Excellent! Now, state your name."

The smeet replied with sheer delight, "I don't got one!"

"Eh? But how can you not—" Zim stopped, then facepalmed. "Of all the things to forget. Your Pak didn't come with one, did it?"

The smeet shook its head. "Nope!"

GIR danced up to the smeet. "Let's call him John Henry!" he said, while the little Irken made grabby-hands for the loud robot with the shiny lights.

Zim picked up the smeet and moved him away from GIR. "Let's _not_." That didn't stop GIR from walking a few steps over to continue his ogling. "This is my prized apprentice, the future of the Irken elite. He needs a name that will strike fear into the hearts of every filthy subspecies in existence. A name like _Zim!_ But not Zim. Only I can be Zim."

"I heard there's another Skoodge," Skoodge said, walking up to join them with Minimoose perched on his head. "So it's not like our names are special, or anything."

"Don't be ridiculous," Zim said with a sneer. "If I name him with _that_ kind of attitude, the apprenticeship program will fail before it even begins."

While Zim crossed his arms and ruminated at the floor, GIR took out a rubber piggy from inside his head. He zoomed it around like a fighter jet, complete with machine gun noises. The smeet followed the toy's every move, enraptured.

"I've got it!" Zim pointed at the smeet. "Your name is now _Heat-Death-of-the-Universe!_"

The smeet was too busy chasing after GIR to pay attention, as the robot pretend-flew the piggy-plane into another room.

Zim turned to Skoodge, who'd been standing there, watching everything. Zim opened his mouth, ready to rant, and a loud crash made him close it. Sirens blared, and Zim wrenched his attention to the source of the noise.

Red lights flashed from the room GIR and the smeet had just gone into. The macro-filovirus room.

Zim ran into the room, and screamed. He'd mutated filoviruses into ten-foot-tall flailing monstrosities to consume the human populace. At that size, they didn't melt organs; they simply beat everything to death. Their containment vats, freshly shattered, leaked protein-rich fluid in the wake of their stringy terror.

Zim ducked and rolled to avoid GIR as he flew his way. The robot made a SIR-shaped dent in the door frame. A fat spaghetti limb whipped around one of GIR's legs, and he shrieked with laughter as a macro-filovirus yanked him out to bash elsewhere.

The smeet was clambering up the control panel in the middle of the room. He'd evidently used the suspended animation release lever as a foothold. As he swiped for where the pig had landed, on the highest point of the panel's sloped surface, another macro-filovirus slithered toward him.

"_No!_" Zim ran for the control panel, only to get smacked to the floor by another flailing abomination. He sat up as the macro-filovirus lunged a filament at the oblivious smeet the Tallest had entrusted with his care.

The smeet latched onto the pig. His face lit up in triumph, right before the macro-filovirus struck it out of his hand, inches from taking off his head. The rubber pig bounced, landed legs-up, and was still.

The smeet's happiness vanished as he experienced disappointment for the first time. He whimpered, large eyes brimming with tears, and deployed his Pak legs in laser formation.

The smeet let out a piercing scream, and started blasting every macro-filovirus to crispy crunchies. GIR clanged to the floor near Zim as the one holding him was zapped to ash, but Zim couldn't take his eyes off the smeet's destructive fury.

When the lasers stopped less than a minute later, every macro-filovirus was gone. It was quiet, aside from the smeet's panting, as heat shimmered off his exposed Pak legs.

He tucked them away and looked around, as though seeing the room for the first time. His gaze met the unscathed rubber piggy on the floor. The smeet hopped off the control panel, scurried over, and scooped up the toy in a squeaky hug.

Zim stood and approached his new charge. Weeks of work had been reduced to scorch marks on metal, but his insides were bursting with pride.

"Your name..." Zim grabbed the smeet and raised him up high. "Is _Flip!_"

Flip looked down, almost three feet off the floor, and held up the rubber pig in imitation.

From somewhere behind them, GIR said, "I like John Henry better!"

Zim lowered Flip to eye level. "I'll teach you everything you need to become an Irken elite _ow!_" Flip had just beaned him on the head with the rubber piggy. "Don't do that!" Flip squirmed out of his grip and crawled onto his head to play with his antennae. "Hey, no! _Stoppit!_"

Skoodge stood in the doorway with Minimoose in his arms, watching Zim run in circles. Flip laughed as his designated teacher failed to pry him loose.

Skoodge brushed a tear from his eye and smiled. "Adorable little hellion."

* * *

Zim spent the next week teaching Flip everything an Invader should master: social media sockpuppets, animal-robot chimeras, squirrel target practice, and hyper combo finishes. Flip showed excellent progress, his high scores improving every day.

The Tallest would want a progress report soon, Zim thought, but he'd barely scratched the surface of Flip's training. The smeet had yet to experience the outside world, a vital step in his education.

But Zim would deal with that after school—he'd been absent for a week. Another day, and the faceless human education authorities might get suspicious.

"Skoodge! Keep an eye on Flip while I'm gone," Zim said as he approached the front door, adjusting his usual wig. Flip followed close beside him.

"Roger," Skoodge said from the couch, a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs balanced in his lap.

Flip, decked out in a fuchsia-colored onesie Skoodge had made for him with digital knitting needles, gaped at Zim's wig and contacts.

Zim didn't miss that round-eyed stare. "My flawless human disguise allows me to survive undetected on this wretched planet. It's an invaluable skill for every Invader."

Skoodge finished drinking the sugar-milk sludge out of his bowl. "On some planets, you can get away with just strapping rocks to yourself."

"Training will resume when I return this afternoon," Zim said. He left the house, and shut the door behind him.

Flip stared at the door as Zim's marching faded down the front walk. Then he jumped for the doorknob, swung the door open, and ran outside.

He made it three feet before Skoodge swept him off the ground. "You're stayin' with me today, little guy."

Flip flailed his legs in midair, then stopped.

Skoodge took Flip back into the house, and set him down. "I'm gonna show you this cool thing you can do with a magnifying glass and a jar full of bugs."

GIR popped out of the kitchen, holding a large mixing bowl. "But I wanna show Henry how to make waffles!" He held up his bowl of waffle ingredients: five sticks of butter, a jar of mayonnaise, and live crickets.

Skoodge turned to GIR. "But what about the nachos I was gonna make later? You'll spoil his appetite." He glanced back to Flip. "Right, little buddy?"

His little buddy wasn't there. Skoodge blinked, then slowly faced the open front door. Flip was gone. "Uh oh."

* * *

Zim sat in World History, slumped halfway down his chair. The flimsy desk surface failed to hide the middle-aged man blathering on about some ancient Earth conflict at the head of the classroom.

He tuned out the teacher's pointless droning by thinking about what Flip's human disguise should look like. The more he imagined, the more it started to look like Zim's.

Rising chatter filtered in from the hall. The teacher continued his mind-killing lecture uninterrupted as curious students crowded around the door-window inside the classroom.

Zim pulled himself up in his seat, then hopped out and headed for the door. He kicked a towering teenager out of the way; three years in the school system, and the human children were already two or three heads taller than him. He propped himself up between two other students to peer out the square window.

His jaw dropped in silent horror. Flip was walking down the hall, his Irken appearance completely undisguised. Students crammed themselves against the doors inside the other classrooms, while Flip waved and smiled at them.

Zim shoved his teen props aside, yanked the door open, and ran into the hallway.

He grabbed Flip by the shoulders. "What are you doing away from the base?!" he whisper-yelled. "You're blowing our cover!"

Flip tugged on Zim's sleeve. "Come back and show me how to do the head-explodey thing, Teacher!"

"I _said_ we'd continue training this afternoon!" Zim darted his eyes around at all the doors straining against the force of their students. His World History classmates were crowding around them.

"Awww, is that your little brother?" a girl asked. She stuck her face down close to Flip's and squealed, "_He's so cuuute!_"

Zim slapped her away. She crashed into a geology display, and got a bunch of geodes dumped on her face. Zim put Flip on top of his head, rattled out, "My parents called and said I have to walk the dog now _bye!_" and fled down the hall.

The drama classroom approached on Zim's right. He ran in, caused screaming, and emerged with Flip in Groucho glasses and a striped party hat. A pink feather boa had somehow ended up draped around Zim's shoulders. He threw it down and ran for the main entrance.

Zim burst out the front double doors, and leaned over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He listened hard as the doors shut behind him; the teachers would be too busy herding students back to class to notice his escape, he hoped.

Flip dropped off Zim's head, and smiled up at him. "Are we goin' home now?"

Zim took Flip by the shoulders and faced him the other way. "_You're_ going home. Straight back to the base, no side trips. I'll have to think of a suitable punishment later." He turned on his heel and reached for the door handle.

"But I dunno how to get back."

Zim stopped with his hand in midair. "You _what?_ Just go back the way you came, it's not that far." He turned and pointed. "See that sign? Go there, turn left, and—"

Flip scanned the schoolyard from where he stood, blinking behind the Groucho glasses. "What sign?"

The school's changeable letter sign board sat a few yards away from the front entrance. "Then... how did you follow me here?"

"I smelled you!" Flip took off his party hat and wiggled his antennae.

Zim jammed the hat back down over Flip's head, looking around to make sure no one saw. During his first week of training, Flip hadn't shown any sight-related issues, but none of the lessons had required precise vision beyond a few feet. If he was using his other senses to compensate, then he needed optical implants—preferably before piloting lessons started.

Furthermore, Flip had followed Zim to school in bare feet. By some miracle, he'd missed every rusty nail, glass shard, and stray dog on the way.

"Well, I see no point in spying on the humans any longer for today," Zim said. "Let's return to the base."

Flip saluted with a squeal. "Yes sir!" He about-faced and goose-stepped straight for a hill of fire ants. Zim rushed forward, turned Flip away from the path of stinging agony, then led him down the street.

Flip's curiosity was insatiable. He ran toward a group of happy children at an ice cream truck, but Zim pulled him away. "No, Flip. Ice cream is made of _burning._"

A little later, Flip made a beeline for a yummy-smelling hot dog stand. Zim yanked him back. "Don't touch! Those are _evil meats_ that will fuse to your skin, and crawl into your eye sockets!"

Mere minutes after that horror story, Flip reached for a small fluffy terrier as it trotted by. Zim held Flip out of reach. "Uh, no. Dogs are... they're creepy. Especially the little ones."

By the time the base loomed into view, Zim had Flip perched securely on his head again. The smeet had narrowly missed slicing his foot open on a rusty tuna can lying in the middle of the sidewalk. Zim grumbled something about stupid littering humans while Flip enjoyed the ride.

Zim entered the house and shut the door. Skoodge looked up from doing crosswords on the couch. "Hi Zi—oh."

Zim kept his glare fixed on Skoodge as GIR appeared from the kitchen. The robot held up a bowl steaming with corn chips and melted cheese.

"Naaachooos," GIR chanted.

"_Nachos!_" Flip threw off his disguise, jumped down from Zim's head, and ran straight for the snacks.

Zim walked up to Skoodge, and jabbed a pointer finger at him. "I'm systematically revoking your quality-of-life privileges."

And Skoodge said, "Aww!"


	2. Day Fifteen

Optical implants didn't run cheap on the galactic internet. But getting the material separate from the procedure was a different story, thanks to Vortian slave labor.

A purchase screen popped out of the console. Zim, humming with anticipation, hit the "Buy" button.

_INVADERS ONLY_ flashed in digital block-lettering under his gloved fingertip.

"What the—" He tapped it again. Pressed harder. Trembled with the effort. "Come on! I _am_ an Invader!" He slammed his fist on the console. "Computer! _Bring me Skoodge._"

The base computer produced a transport tube, and dumped Skoodge onto the floor face-first. It retracted into the ceiling by the time Zim turned around.

After Skoodge peeled an in-progress copy of _1001 Sci-Fi Mad Libs_ off his face, Zim jabbed a finger at the screen behind him. "How did you break it _this_ time?!"

Skoodge set the Mad Libs aside and stood. "Break what? I never break anything." He walked up to the touch-activated screen generated by .vrt. The "Buy" button spun in stereoscopic 3D, and Skoodge gave it a little tap.

The screen gave a friendly _beep-boop_ and said, "Thank you for your patronage!" before vanishing back into the console.

Zim's voice contracted to an indignant squeak. "But—how did you—"

"What do you mean, how did I..." Skoodge lifted his gaze from the console to the main monitor, and his eyes bulged. "Wait. Did I just _buy_ optical implants? Is it really okay to do that?"

Zim scoffed. "Of _course_ it is! As a future Invader, Flip was eventually going to get them, anyway."

"Oh." Skoodge suddenly found the floor fascinating. "Yeah, that makes sense." Without looking at Zim, he backed away from the console, then turned and left the room.

* * *

In the estimated week before optical implant delivery, Zim started Flip on weapon creation and modification. Crafting destruction was a favorite pastime of Zim's, and therefore perfect for his student.

Except Flip had zero aptitude for it. He was slow at taking things apart, slower at reassembling, and never returned anything to the right place. He kept dropping small parts, and spent much of his time hunting under machinery for components.

In response, Zim replaced all tutoring plans with weapon-modding until further notice. Why Flip would struggle with something so simple was beyond him. However, he was positive that drilling muscle memory into those clumsy little hands would render it a non-issue.

Flip's failures began exploding instead. They weren't even that spectacular—just a quick puff of black smoke, a dead weapon, and a crestfallen smeet. He'd become increasingly reluctant to go underground for training over the past few days.

Zim shoved aside the thirty-seventh ruined subatomic disperser, and placed the next one on the work table. "Again!" The smeet turned doleful eyes toward him. "We're not stopping until you get it right."

Flip glowered at the weapon, then balled up his tiny fists. "No! This is _stupid!_"

"Don't back-sass your superior!" Zim snapped, all stern military instructor. Flip cringed. "You're going to re-assemble this into something deadlier, or else you'll never—"

"_I don't wanna!_" Flip deployed his Pak legs, jumped on the table, and leaped into the ceiling's tube network.

"Get down from there!" Zim yelled.

Flip stopped spidering upward for a second. "_No!_"

Zim's gloves creaked as he clenched his fists. "Come down here and rip this weapon apart _right now!_"

A Pak laser fired from above, and blew the thirty-eighth subatomic disperser to bits.

"_Fine!_ Be a failure!" Zim stormed out.

* * *

The next day marked the beginning of the third week since Flip's activation. Zim worked alone in one of the base's many labs; he hadn't called Flip down for any lessons. Not until his student expressed regret for his earlier insubordination.

Zim was busy welding spiked wheels to a duck when something crashed just outside the room. He clicked off the laser-torch, and lifted his face shield. "GIR! That better not be you I hear breaking things!"

No response. Zim grunted, pulled the shield back down, and continued weaponizing a live, squawking bird.

* * *

It took another hour, much of it spent trying to restrain the feathered specimen, but the Ducky Roader was complete. Designed to run down and impale enemies on land and water, Zim considered it undeniable proof of his inventive genius.

Even though Zim was finished, work-related noises continued from another room nearby. He approached the source in a brisk huff. Skoodge was going to regret using Zim's equipment without permission.

Zim entered the Making Stuff Room, took a breath to yell, and stopped. Round green eyes and notched antennae peeked above the work table as Flip used a step stool on tiptoe to reach it.

"Flip?" The smeet didn't look up at Zim's inquiry. "What're you doing down here?" Flip remained engrossed in his work as Zim walked up to the table, only taking his hands away when Zim arrived.

Zim picked up the cell-disruptor gun lying on the work table, and scrutinized it from every angle. The modification was slim; along with the usual Stir and Scramble settings, it now had Liquefy. More importantly, it was in one piece, without a single dropped or ruined component in sight.

He set the weapon down. "You finally did it. There may be hope for you as an Invader after all." Flip's face lit up like the city at night. "But how'd you do it? You destroyed all the other ones I gave you."

Flip ducked his gaze to the table's scorched surface. "I went real slow. I can't do it all fast like you want me to."

Zim perked an antenna. That had never crossed his mind. "Well... we'll work on that."

Grinning, Flip pushed the weapon across the table toward his mentor. Zim pushed it back.

"You made it, so it's yours," Zim said. Flip blinked up at him. "You'll need it to destroy your enemies."

Flip picked up the disruptor with newfound reverence. "Okay."

Using the table for support, Flip lowered himself off the step stool, one foot at a time. He rounded the table and passed Zim, plodding for the doorway with the gun cradled in his arms.

"Wait," Zim said. Flip stopped, facing the exit. "Now that you've modded your first weapon, it's time we moved on to—"

Flip tilted where he stood, and collapsed on his side.

Zim stepped up to him. "This is no time for games. We've much work to do."

Flip uncurled from the undamaged disruptor, and pushed himself up with both arms. He struggled up a few inches, trembling, then flopped to the floor.

"Flip?" No response; it wrenched at Zim's insides. He dropped to his knees and shook Flip by the shoulders. "What's wrong?!" Flip stayed limp, his disruptor gun lying forgotten in front of him.

* * *

One panicked transport to the medical bay and a detailed scan later, that twisty feeling in Zim's gut formed into a giant knot. The smeet his Almighty Tallest had trusted with him had a life-threatening congenital defect: tissue micro-perforation. Due to poor cell regeneration, the outer layers of Flip's internal organs were covered in microscopic holes. The base's medical AI gave a prognosis of immunodeficiency, infection, and most inevitably, death.

Even with the Pak slowing the damage, the holes would eventually increase and expand at a rate too quick for it to keep up. Moreover, it couldn't fix the self-sabotaging genes making it happen in the first place.

Worst of all, the scan claimed the deterioration had started upon activation. It had advanced, undetected, for a full two weeks.

Zim studied his unconscious student through the pink translucent shielding of a medical containment unit. He'd secured Flip in it to keep his condition stable, but beyond that, Zim was at a loss. Irken knowledge contained no information on repairing genetic defects post-activation, and he didn't have much time to puzzle it out. It was more complicated than splicing human and bologna DNA on a vengeful whim, after all.

Zim extended the communicator from his Pak, and set it to House PA Mode. "GIR, Skoodge! Get down here immediately." A squeak sounded from the other end. "Stay upstairs and watch the house, Minimoose."

He put his communicator away, and turned as GIR clanked to the floor in a tiny robot belly-flop. Skoodge descended from a nearby lift.

Skoodge took one look at the containment unit, and made a dismayed beeline for it. "What happened?!" He pressed his hands to the glass. "Is he okay? What's going on?"

Zim was already at the elevator Skoodge had just left. "Alert me if anything changes. And keep GIR away from the controls." He hopped in and sped upward to escape further questioning.

Once he reached the house level, Zim got out his usual disguise. His only other option was Professor Membrane's home laboratory, but that meant dealing with Dib.

* * *

Dib lounged on the living room couch, taking up most of it in a lazy sprawl as he read True Psychic Tales #255. He'd found it sticking out of a dumpster, so it smelled like rotten peanut butter, but he'd been trying to find that particular issue for weeks. Besides, the action was solid.

Small feet tapped up the front steps. The second Dib lowered the comic book, a Pak leg stabbed through the doorbell, and unlocked the door from outside.

Dib sighed; so much for a relaxing evening. He sat up and tossed his comic on the coffee table nearby as Zim let himself in. "Was that _really_ necessary?"

Zim kicked the door shut, heedless of post-unlocking debris, and stepped up to the coffee table. "I require the use of your father's lab equipment."

"C'mon, you already know how I'm gonna answer."

"Yes, yes. But I think you'll find my reason trumps your consent." Zim looked up at Dib, who already had a height advantage sitting down. "The Tallest sent me a smeet to train as a future galactic Invader."

Dib was fourteen. He'd known what all those things were for three years. "You mean the little guy that ran around school last week?"

Zim cringed. "You _saw_ that?" He shook his head. "Anyway! They assigned me as his mentor, therefore acknowledging my greatness as an Invader. But there has been an... _anomaly_ in the smeet's DNA that requires immediate repair."

"Wait, your glorious leaders gave you an Irken baby with birth defects?" Dib said. "Don't tell me they didn't know it was—"

"Of _course_ they knew!" Zim slammed his palms on the coffee table. "It's just a test. They know nothing is too difficult for me." He angled his gaze at the carpet as he spoke. "But if he dies, I'll be the one punished."

"So they sent one they knew would die anyway?" Dib crossed his arms. "That sounds like a set-up."

Zim's gloved claws squeaked on the glass surface as he screeched, "_Filthy, slanderous lies!_ I won't permit some _Earth-pig_ to speak that way about the Almighty Tallest!" He turned his back on Dib, shoulders hunched and fists clenched. "Forget it! I don't need you. Your primitive human technology is useless to me anyway!"

As Zim stormed toward the door, Dib asked, "What do you guys normally do with birth defects?"

The Irken stopped, then stared at his feet, unfocused. Dib had seen Zim do this before, apparently conducting an internal search through his Pak's knowledge banks.

"They're disposed of," Zim said. "It's more efficient to start over with a new smeet than it is to accommodate a defective. It'd be a waste of time and resources to train one that won't even survive to maturity." He stared at his hands. "But then, why would they..."

Zim continued muttering at the front door about impossible mistakes from glorious leaders. Dib caught snippets of how preposterous it was, as Zim's hands clutched into his wig.

Dib stood up from the couch and sidled around the coffee table. "I'll need a DNA sample before I can do anything."

Zim jerked his head up and spun to face Dib. Something like hope registered on Zim's face a split second before he shot a metal tentacle out of his Pak. Dib shut his eyes as shiny chrome whipped toward his face.

He opened them. A tiny glass cylinder sat inches before his nose, clutched in the tentacle's claws.

"Here it is," Zim said, and Dib took the cylinder in hand. Zim retracted the metal tentacle, and headed for the basement lab ahead of Dib. "Now hurry up! You're wasting time."

* * *

Dib had killed a lot of time over the years conducting experiments on any trace of DNA he could get from Zim. Irkens didn't shed hair or skin flakes, which made that somewhat of a challenge. It was easier to just throw stuff at Zim to see what stuck, fused, burned, or bounced off. Most of Dib's lab experiments confirmed things he already knew, but some produced utterly confusing results. A few gave outcomes so terrifying, even he dared not try to reproduce them on Zim himself.

But through all that, Dib gained a decent grasp of Irken DNA structure. It bore similarities to the DNA of various Earth organisms, making him wonder if life on all planets began the same way. Most of it remained a mystery, however. He couldn't yet determine which allele made Zim short, or which one made his eyes red. It simply wasn't comparable to Earth-DNA alleles, let alone human ones.

Zim handled the Irken DNA particulars. With Membrane's equipment, they quickly found the genetic source of the smeet's tissue degeneration.

"Can't his Pak take care of this?" Dib ran his eyes down the virtual prognosis, making mental corrections to account for human results based on an Irken specimen.

"It doesn't work on a genetic level," Zim said. "It's only going to accelerate, and outpace his Pak regeneration."

"Then we'll have to use gene therapy." When Zim gave him a blank look, Dib said, "Humans use it all the time. Dad made a breakthrough on it about fifteen years ago, and the global infant mortality rate dropped to... It'd take too long to explain, so I'll just show you how it works."

As it turned out, Dib didn't have to explain much. Together, he and Zim created a virus-sized vector to introduce the new gene. Dib wasn't sure if Zim's dedication to the task was scientific fascination, or wanting to finish it as soon as possible. He couldn't help suspecting the latter, as the prognosis claimed the smeet wouldn't live to see morning.

Two hours later, Zim snatched the still-steaming vial from the machine the instant the final step of the process completed. "I'll take it from here," he said, securing the vial in his Pak and making quick strides for the door.

"What, you're just gonna leave?" Dib fumbled with his safety goggles, trying to take them off without catching his glasses on them. He dropped the goggles to the floor in his haste to catch up with Zim at the already-open front door. "You're not even gonna thank me for betraying the human race?"

Zim looked back at Dib, one hand on the doorknob. "I'm not the one who should be thankful," he said, and left.

* * *

Zim returned to the base to find GIR curled up sleeping against the medical containment unit, one drool-soaked hand crammed in his mouth. Skoodge had apparently gone out for a late-night snack run, but had made sure to leave a disturbingly realistic moose figurine in GIR's arms. The controls remained untouched.

Flip hadn't moved an inch from where he'd been placed inside the unit. Zim stared at the monitor keeping track of Flip's vitals. When they remained steady, he let his breath out, and took the vial out of his Pak.

Zim grabbed GIR by the back of his thin neck and tossed him toward the ceiling, moose toy and all. A transport tube shot down to receive them, and took them up to the house.

With that hazard out of the way, Zim operated the controls on the unit's exterior to teleport the vial inside the shield. He manipulated the sterile robot arms inside, and injected Flip with the vector.

A holo-screen popped up as Zim retracted the tools, showing a digitized representation of the vector releasing the gene into the first cell's nucleus. Nothing happened—until the cell split. The resulting cells split faster as Flip's Pak encouraged propagation of the healthy gene.

Zim swiped the screen sideways to a list of rapidly fluctuating percentages. Abnormal tissue degeneration decreased, while cell regeneration steadily climbed.

Once the former reached zero, and the latter stayed at a hundred, Zim leaned both hands against the medical unit and exhaled slowly. The human's gene therapy had actually worked.

He tapped the holo-screen away, and jerked his attention back to the containment unit when Flip started moving. Flip stretched into wakefulness, met Zim's gaze, and beamed.

"Hi, Teacher!" he chirped, rising up on his knees and pressing his palms against the inside of the translucent pink shield. "What am I doin' in here?"

Zim shook his head. "Nothing. You were just getting out." He hit the release on the unit, and the hatch opened with a small hiss.

Flip jumped out and hugged Zim's face with all four limbs. Zim squirmed his hands under Flip's little arms and pried him away, only for Flip to immediately latch onto his torso.

Zim's fingers twitched; his student could put a leech to shame. Then Flip snuggled his head under Zim's chin, and sighed.

The knot that had been in Zim's gut for too many hours melted. When he settled his arms around Flip, it didn't feel terrible.

* * *

Red and Purple stared, slack-jawed, at the bright-eyed smeet on-screen. Purple pointed at Flip and said, "Well, he's looking awfully... alive."

"Indeed! The terror he'll rain upon his future enemies will be _enduring_." Zim stood with ramrod-straight military crispness, the smeet standing next to him in a best-behavior pose. "There was a minor snag, but I handled it. You'll be ecstatic to know that the mentorship is going smoothly."

Purple shot Red something of a betrayed expression. Red took great care not to notice while Zim was watching and said, "Good to know! You just... keep at it."

Zim whipped up an arm to salute. "Yes, my Tallest!"

He nudged the smeet with his elbow, who imitated the salute like some kind of Mini-Zim. He shrieked with enthusiasm, "Yes _sir_ my Tallest _sir!_"

The call screen blipped off, and Purple rounded on Red. "You said his organs would be mush by now!"

"Well, they're not," Red said. Purple seemed miffed by the lack of justification. "This has gone completely off the rails. He can't get nailed with an automatic smeet-death execution bounty if he keeps it alive."

"Did we send him the wrong one?" Purple put a hand out to one side, and a subordinate Irken scrambled to place a small, paper-thin monitor in it. He ran his eyes over the text displayed and said, "Wait, no... it was the right one. Huh."

"He must have fixed its genetic defect somehow." Red couldn't fathom how _Zim,_ of all people, could come up with that solution, let alone pull it off. Not to mention _why_—solving a genetic defect post-activation defied all reason. "If the smeet's no longer defective, then there's no reason to keep it on Earth. You!" He pointed at a random operator on the Massive's bridge. "Send a retrieval unit to Earth. I want that smeet returned to Irk for proper training."

Purple tossed the small monitor over his shoulder, ignoring a pained scream from one of the bridge rabble. "Why bother? Zim's probably ruined it already."

"That's not the point." Red narrowed his eyes. "It was never his to mess with."


	3. Retrieval, Side A

Two weeks later, a metal-plated package took out a gnome in Zim's front yard. The material for Flip's optical implants had arrived.

After performing a detailed scan of Flip's eyes, Zim applied the data to the grey malleable material he'd ordered. It morphed into round green implants, vibrated to erase every error it had copied, and was ready in seconds.

It was easy enough to build the necessary machinery for the optical implant procedure. Even so, Zim had only ever been on the receiving end. He locked GIR in a ball pit full of squeaky toys to prevent catastrophic failure.

Flip was wonderfully compliant throughout. He managed to keep his excited wriggles to a minimum while Zim strapped him to a shiny metal table.

Zim fastened the last strap across Flip's forehead and said, "Don't move." Flip couldn't even nod.

Extending his Pak legs, Zim climbed up the optical implant machine he'd built in a fit of inventive fervor. The hulking monstrosity towered over the table Flip was strapped to, exposed inner workings and all.

Zim bounced into the seat at the very top. His antennae brushed the ceiling tube network as he aimed the gargantuan machine's small twin cannons at Flip's face.

"_The eyeball replacement shall now commence!_" Zim announced from his fearsome perch.

Two button presses, and the procedure was over. Zim lowered the machine's business end away from the table, and Pak-spidered back down. He released Flip's bonds, and the smeet sat up with new, synthetic eyes.

"Well?" Zim leaned into Flip's line of sight. "Do they work?"

Flip shut his eyes, rubbed them, and gazed around. He turned his head slowly, mouth dropping open.

"Did we always have all this stuff here?" Flip looked straight up and gasped at the tangled tubes and wires above. "_Woah!_"

"I'll take that as a yes." Zim took Flip off the table and set him on the floor. "Now for a test run."

Zim had converted the simulation room to aid in Flip's Invader education. It provided every imaginable scenario an Irken elite would need to become an Invader, plus a few Zim thought up himself.

Flip's first test involved shooting ooze-spraying alien monsters with a precision heat-ray. He took out the first line with a wide searing shot, and kept up a combo from there. Whenever an enemy charged in from a far corner, Flip immediately pivoted his aim and take it out.

The optical implants worked perfectly. Zim couldn't have been more impressed with himself.

* * *

"Sirs, I have an automated report." A bridge operator on the Massive focused on the holo-screen generated by his console. "Irken 'Flip' has been issued synthetic eye implants outside official Invader jurisdiction."

"Flip? Who's Flip?" said Purple.

"It's that smeet we sent to Zim," Red told him. "First, he somehow keeps it from dying. Now he thinks he can do whatever he wants with it." He turned to an operator. "What's the status on that retrieval unit?"

"It entered the Milky Way three hours ago, sir," the operator answered. "It should reach Earth any day now."

"Good." Red floated back to his hovering snack-chair. "And tell 'em to rip its unsanctioned little eyes out."

* * *

Flip made superb progress on his combat training over the next few days. It helped that it was all video games. Satisfied with Flip's advancement in learning how to kill things, Zim started him on flight sims. He left his student to begin the first lesson, and went to do some online shopping.

Flip going outside was something of an inevitability. Whether he wandered off with or without Zim's permission, he'd need something better than that little onesie Skoodge had made for him.

Zim had no trouble picking out Flip's new uniform; it closely resembled his. He saved the order to buy later between training sessions, and went to the simulation room.

An embedded screen hummed quietly in the back wall, displaying favorable results. Flip was nowhere in sight.

Zim eyed the virtual reality visor lying on the floor. "Computer, where's Flip?"

"He went up to the house a few minutes ago," the base computer replied. "Some visitors came to see him."

"And you didn't _tell_ me?!"

"They were Irken." The computer showed a camera feed of the front door from a few minutes ago. "So I figured it, like, wasn't a big deal."

A pair of taller Irkens in elite armor stood side by side on the front steps, each holding brute-issue stun rods. Labels popped up on-screen next to their faces, listing their names and designations.

"Irken smeet," said Luca, the soldier with brick-red eyes. "You are hereby ordered to return to Irk for underground training."

Flip's antennae shot up in time with his grin. "I get to go to Irk?! Wow!"

"Just step into our ship, and we'll have ya back in no time." Kree, the lavender-eyed elite, spoke in a drawl too relaxed for his position. Flip scurried out the door, and the soldiers ushered him somewhere off-camera.

Zim rushed up to the house level. The front door had been left open to the sunny day outside, revealing no sign of a ship or any other Irkens. A bird chirped a sweet song as Zim's organs attempted to crush themselves.

He shook his head—it was supposed to be this way. He must have done such an exceptional job mentoring Flip that he completed the Invader Apprenticeship Program already. Strange that the Tallest didn't call to congratulate him, though. Or tell him someone would be coming to take Flip back.

"I should call them," Zim said to his front walk. After a long moment, he closed the door.

* * *

Flip stared at the main viewscreen inside the Ripper ship in total wonderment. It was his first time flying, and seeing Earth from space. He searched over the multicolored land masses a hundred miles below, trying to spot his house.

He turned to Kree, who was operating the navigation panel. Kree didn't seem too excited about the awesome view.

Footsteps came from the back of the ship, heavier and longer than Flip was used to. He spun toward the sound—it was just Luca, returning with a long, thin object in his spindly fingers.

"Hey cool, what's that?" Flip pointed at it. The tool had curved clamps at one end.

"It's your first step in military re-education," Luca answered. Kree turned away from the controls to watch, snickering.

Flip said, "But I already started, and I'm doin' real good! Teacher said so."

Kree snorted, which set off both elites laughing. Flip looked back and forth between the two, his smile fading.

"Lesson one." Luca lifted the tool. "Don't take what you didn't earn."

He lunged it at Flip's face.

* * *

"Greetings, My Tallest! My work as a mentor was devastatingly effective, I take it?"

Red and Purple shared a look on-screen.

"Oh, yeah, _totally!_" Purple said, breaking the silence first.

"Your work was exemplary," added Red. "So exemplary, in fact, that you're finished with the mentorship program. You're done! Forever!"

Purple turned his back to the call screen to mess with something while Red spoke. Once his co-leader finished, Purple faced the call screen and tossed confetti into the air. "Whoop-de-doo! Good for you!" The confetti still had bits of chocolate grease stuck to it.

Zim saluted, sharp as a knife. "It's always an honor to serve you, my glorious leaders!" He relaxed his stance a bit. "By the way... Flip _will_ become an Invader, won't he?"

Red shrugged. "That's what you trained him for, right?"

"Why, yes, of course!" Zim chuckled. "Of course I did. Well then! Back to the mission. Invader Zim, signing off."

With those code words, the call ended. Zim's saluting arm fell limp as the anxiety he'd shoved in a corner came crawling back.

A scant few weeks had passed since he'd started Flip's training. But it would be enough to advance him beyond his peers, and the optical implants were bound to help even more. Flip worked hard, tried hard, and strived to impress.

He was so small. It had only been a month.

Zim twitched when the call screen retracted back into the ceiling. He'd been staring into space since ending his conversation with the Tallest minutes ago. He shook his head, and walked out of the room. A mountain of work awaited him, whatever it was. That was for Zim to decide.

His Tallest had ordered Flip back to Irk for a good reason. And those had been full-fledged elites, forehead tattoos and all. Zim's leaders even acknowledged what a good job he'd done, and he hadn't even told them the extra mile he'd gone to correct Flip's faulty genes. Not to mention the implants that would no doubt hasten Flip's rise to the top of the academy.

He paused in the corridor leading to both the chimera experiments and the Making Stuff Room. Instead of having a clear task in mind, all he could think about was the next level of _You Can Totally Fly In the Irken Armada_.

* * *

Pure instinct forced Flip's Pak legs out of their ports and against the dull pink metal of the ship's interior, shoving him away from the eyeball remover. The clamp had been so close, the coolness of the metal still tingled in his antennae.

"Stand still!" Luca stepped forward with the clamp in both hands.

Flip skittered back on his Pak legs. "What're you doing?!"

"Those implants are for Invaders _only_," Luca said with a sneer. Kree left the navigation panel to back him up. "I passed the test ages ago, and I've been on a waiting list for the damn things ever since."

"You could repurpose his," Kree said. "Speed up the process. Medical staff loves it when ya bring yer own materials."

Luca glanced back at his partner. "Yeah, you're right." He faced Flip with a hungry smile. "Looks like I get something out of this mission after all."

Flip's Pak legs met the wall behind him, and his breath caught in his throat. Luca rose up on his Pak extensions, followed by Kree. The metal appendages weren't much different from Flip's, but the bodies suspended on them were far more menacing.

Flip tried to back up the wall, but his Pak legs slipped against the smooth, curved metal. He fell flat, extensions sprawling, and Luca spidered in to thrust the clamp at Flip's left eye.

Flip re-deployed his Pak legs in laser formation. Luca juked to the side, avoiding the blast, which seared Kree's arm as he failed to do the same. The lavender-eyed elite dropped to the floor screaming, and Luca steadied himself on his Pak legs, glancing over at Kree.

The distraction was brief, but gave Flip enough time to pull out his modded disruptor. He pointed the gun and fired—right between the elites, hitting something behind them.

Red warning lights bathed the interior in a hellish glow as klaxons blared. Luca jerked his gaze toward the back of the ship. "You little _brat!_ You melted the hyperdrive!" He hurried away on his Pak legs to check the damaged hardware.

Flip looked down at his disruptor. It was set to Liquefy.

He looked up—Earth was still visible on the viewscreen. With Luca by the devastated hyperdrive, and Kree writhing in agony, Flip ran to the navigation panel. He hovered his free hand over it; he had no experience with Ripper controls. Voot and Spittle Runners were all his first flight lesson had covered.

Then Flip recognized the location lock-on history Kree had left open. Zim's base was at the top of the list, and he slammed the button to confirm.

Kree was already off the floor, his burnt arm hanging limp. "Don't touch that, ya little—" He froze in mid-lunge as Flip aimed the disruptor at him, hands shaking. "Easy there. Wouldn't wanna hurt yerself. You even know how to use that thing?"

Luca approached them, no longer on his Pak extensions. "Why are we moving? We're not leaving this pissant solar system without a hyperdrive."

Flip whipped his gaze from Kree to Luca; he couldn't aim at both. The viewscreen flickered as the Ripper re-entered Earth's atmosphere, and the looming elites blocked Flip's line of sight.

Kree gestured at Flip with his good arm. "Little jerk played with the controls. Hold 'im while I get us back to orbit."

He'd scarcely said the word before Luca grabbed Flip by the neck and held him aloft. The disruptor clattered to the floor—Flip had been too busy watching Kree. A few beeps sounded as Kree manned the controls one-handed to undo the location lock-on command.

Flip squirmed and clawed at the long fingers constricting his windpipe to no avail. Twisting his head in Luca's grip got him a blurry side-view of the navigation panel, where Kree was re-establishing an orbital course. Next to his busy fingers was another button Flip had seen before.

Something cold tingled in Flip's right antenna, and he flicked his eyes forward. Luca had the clamp in his other hand. He was also close enough for Flip's Pak legs to completely trap his head in the laser configuration.

Luca stiffened when metal leg tips encircled his periphery vision, and threw Flip at the controls. Kree yanked his hand away right before Flip collided with the panel. Hazy and smarting, Flip rolled over, fumbled a hand on the button he'd recognized, and slid his palm upward on it as far as it would go.

"Maximum descent initiated," the Ripper's AI droned. The ship jerked, catapulting Flip off the navigation panel, and he felt nothing.


	4. Retrieval, Side B

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed or otherwise showed interest in my story! You make me feel all nice inside._

* * *

Something rumbled; Flip tried to ignore it. That only made the rumbling grow louder. Opening his eyes to make sure a giant monster wasn't about to eat him started to sound like a good idea.

No monster—just lots of green. The dirt below him smelled of long-dead plants, and tall, dark trees dominated the scenery. Flip pushed himself up on his arms; what was he doing in a forest? His onesie was dirt-streaked and torn in a few places, and his neck hurt.

Flip sat up, and found the Ripper's smoking wreckage towering ten feet away. It had crashed on its side, with the top and most of the front torn off. Kree was draped over the cracked navigation panel, unconscious, while Luca hung from the high fork of a tree in the same condition.

Flip got to his feet; now was his chance to escape. Before deciding where to, he remembered that he'd dropped his disruptor. He couldn't leave that behind. Teacher would get mad.

Maybe it was still inside the ship. A cold weight formed in his squeedly-spooch as he forced himself closer to the Ripper. What if Kree woke up? What if they both woke up? They'd kill him for sure.

The disruptor rested on a shard of cosmic radiation shielding sticking out from the ship. Staying as silent as possible, Flip climbed up with his Pak legs, and stretched for the gun the moment he came within reach.

He bumped his hand against it in his attempt, and it tumbled from its perch. Flip's throat tightened at the soft _thump_ it made on the ground.

He dropped off the ship, and grabbed the gun to his chest. His eyes darted between the Irken elites—not a single twitch from either. He backed away from the crash site, then turned and ran into the forest.

The rumbling came again, and the air wooshing past his antennae had thickened. His Pak warned him it was about to rain. Rain was bad, but he wasn't sure why.

Something small and wet landed on his head, searing on contact. He stopped with a gasp and put a hand to the stinging area, jerking away when it burned his palm. Another drop hit his right antenna like boiling hot oil. He shrieked, clamped a hand over his mouth, and started running again.

Raindrops multiplied with each passing second, striking everything around him, hissing louder. Flip kicked up increasingly wet and painful leaves and dirt, until he dove into the nearest viable shelter.

He huddled under broad foliage, thick leaves pressing down on his head from the rain. Moisture ran off the plant, and formed rivulets away from him.

Flip crossed his arms over the disruptor gun as thunder roared above the downpour. He couldn't stop shaking.

* * *

"Automated distress signal detected," said the base computer, "from a downed Irken ship."

Zim blinked. He had a tool in each work-gloved hand, and a completely disassembled machine on the table in front of him. He'd taken the whole thing apart, down to the plasma-bolts and laser-screws, but couldn't remember what he'd wanted to do with it.

"What Irken ship would be—" He paused, put his tools down, and turned swiftly from the table. "The elites?!"

"Their Ripper crashed on the other side of Earth." A holo-screen appeared, pointing out the exact location northeast of the base, across an ocean. "Thought you might like to know."

"Computer!" Zim threw the thick protective gloves to the floor with a two-armed jerk. "Voot bay!"

A lift formed out of the floor beneath him, flew him into a transport tube, and popped him out by the Voot Runner.

"Get GIR up here, too," Zim said.

"GIR is not in the base," the computer replied. "He went shopping with Skoodge."

Zim stomped his foot. "Useless! There's still Minimoose, but I can't leave the base unguarded." He bellowed, "_Minimoose!_"

Minimoose swooped in out of nowhere with a squeak. Zim pointed at him and said, "Protect the base!" He opened the Voot's cockpit. "And make sure GIR and Skoodge _stay_ in the house when they get back."

He didn't wait for squeaky acknowledgment before hopping into the Voot, closing the environmental shield, and taking off.

* * *

Hours must have passed. Flip wasn't sure how many, because he hadn't checked his Pak's internal clock after waking up at the crash site. The rain had stopped, but left the ground damp and riddled with puddles.

He had no guarantee that the rain would stay stopped after he left his shelter. The spot on his head had stopped stinging, but the painful memory remained.

Those two soldiers could have woken up while Flip was hiding. He hugged the gun to himself and shivered.

A branch cracked somewhere, scaring up a flock of shrieking birds. Flip locked his muscles in place—it hadn't been thunder, and didn't sound like hardened elites coming to get him.

Birdsong, prevalent even during the storm, was gradually giving way to insect noises. Flip had no trouble seeing in the receding sunlight, but staying out after dark with eye-stealing soldiers on the loose was the least pleasant thing he could think of.

It was time to move, if only to find a better hiding place. He slid out from under the leafy plant and stood, hissing as the damp ground stung his bare feet. He sidled around puddles, and stuck to the driest-looking areas as he picked his way through the forest.

* * *

Zim landed a hundred yards away from the crash site, just as a precaution. Having been one himself, he had personal experience with how on-edge and alert Irken elite soldiers were trained to be. He only had himself to blame if he burst in on them unannounced, and got ventilated with lasers.

He arrived to find a thoroughly destroyed Ripper. It was pretty standard for their rank, whether they were traveling with the Armada, or away on a mission. The soldiers weren't around, and neither was Flip. He rose on his Pak legs to better inspect the wrecked ship's interior. In place of the hyperdrive was a milkshake-looking mess of technology.

His antennae twitched. Before his brain registered why, something large slammed him into the wet soil, forcing his Pak legs to retract. He struggled to turn his face away from the ground, spitting dirt, as his adversary pinned him with meat and metal limbs alike.

An armored hand with long fingers kept Zim's face pressed down sideways. "Stand down, soldier! I'm an Irken Invader! Your _superior!_"

Luca barked out a laugh. "Whatever, Zim. They should've converted your shell to ship fuel ages ago."

Zim braced his arms on the ground and shoved upward, gaining nothing. The elite had blocked his Pak ports, as well. "The Tallest will do the same to _you_ when I tell them about this!"

"Teacher?"

Zim tried to jerk his head toward that little voice, but Luca pushed down harder. Tiny feet shuffled at the edge of the clearing. "Flip?" His antennae angled in the direction of another, taller Irken dropping to the ground on Pak legs. "What's going on?!"

Luca touched the sharp tip of a Pak leg to the nape of Zim's neck. "Don't try anything stupid with that, kid," he said, a clipped edge to his voice, "or you'll lose more than your eyeballs."

The newly-arrived Irken said, "Just kill 'im, already. We can present his body to the Tallest when we get back. They'll give us loads of monies, plus those implants you w—"

An air-splitting _CRACK_, then silence. Zim's antennae sensed a new source of moist heat.

Luca screamed. "Kree! Your organs—" He gagged, and lifted both hands to cover his mouth.

The instant those hands left his head, Zim shot a metal tentacle out of his Pak, forcing Luca into the air by his middle. He slammed Luca into one tree, whipped him back, and slammed him into another. Zim released the elite, who dropped to the ground, broken and unconscious.

The tentacle retracted, and Zim got to his feet. Flip stood at the edge of the clearing, his breathing irregular. He had the disruptor pointed at the ground in a two-handed death grip, arms quivering. Irken Elite Soldier Kree steamed in a pile six paces away, his squeedly-spooch pulsating upon the gore of his inside-out body.

Zim approached his student in measured steps. "They couldn't have been elite soldiers," he said, keeping his tone even and reassuring. "A true elite would _never_ treat Invaders with such disrespect."

He noted every rip and dirt smudge on Flip's clothing as he got closer. The moist air tasted of a recent storm, and he hadn't started Flip on paste-bathing yet.

Flip finally tore his gaze away from the twitching mess that used to be Kree, and faced his teacher. Zim froze in mid-step.

The smeet's eyes and voice were mournful. "I broke it."

"Eh?"

Zim relaxed as Flip stepped up and offered him the gun. The business end was burnt an electrical smoke-smelling black, while the dial was stuck between Stir and Scramble. Zim took the disruptor; that explained why Kree ended up as some combination of both.

"Well, it still has one use." Zim popped off the setting dial, and twirled some internal wires together. After ten seconds of work, he threw the gun at the wrecked Ripper. The weapon bounced off the hull and hit the ground as Zim scooped Flip into his arms, and dashed out of the clearing.

Five seconds passed as Zim ran through the forest. A loud _BANG _from behind made Flip cling tighter. The crickets started chirping again a moment later.

Zim slowed to a stop, and disentangled Flip to set him on the ground. Flip shivered and squeezed his hands together in the absence of something to hold on to.

Zim looked his student over. "What did those imposters do to you?"

Flip stared at his hands. "They were gonna take me to Irk for re-education, but they wanted to rip out my eyes first."

"'Re-education?'" Zim cocked his head to one side and squinted. "What for? And why were they after your implants?"

Flip clutched his hands tighter. "They said I wasn't s'posed to have 'em," he said, gradually losing volume.

Zim scoffed. "Of _course_ you're supposed to have them! I put them in myself." Flip kept his eyes on the ground; he hadn't stopped shaking. "The Almighty Tallest themselves commended me on your advanced education, you know." Zim angled his head toward the just-exploded crash site. "_They_ couldn't have been the ones sent to pick you up. I should report those filthy opportunists."

"I wanna go home."

Zim lifted an antenna. "Back to Irk?"

Flip grabbed Zim in a tight hug, pressing his face into the front of Zim's uniform.

Zim flinched his arms away. "Hey, not n—"

Flip sobbed a keening wail into Zim's torso, effectively silencing any protest. Zim's hands hovered, uncertain, until he placed them on Flip's shoulders. He wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to steady as Flip cried like the world was falling apart, tiny claws locked into the back of Zim's shirt.

Flip's behavior didn't make sense—he should have been celebrating. Most Irkens didn't get their first non-virtual kill until after decades of underground military training. Kree's end was gruesome, but Flip had acted quickly in a critical situation, saving Zim and himself.

The smeet's reaction to Irk was even more confusing. Didn't every Irken have an instinctual desire to return to their home planet?

Flip's onesie was damp under Zim's hands. Caught in the storm Zim had sensed earlier, no doubt.

Zim gave Flip's shoulders a little squeeze. "Let's return to the base. I'll need a detailed report from you to give to the Tallest."

Flip took a sobbing breath, and pulled his face an inch away from Zim's shirt. "Okay."

Zim lifted Flip into his arms again, so he wouldn't have to walk on the wet ground with bare feet. Flip wrapped his arms around Zim, resting his cheek on one shoulder, as his mentor carried him through the forest.


	5. Lockout

_Thanks again to all my readers. Your follows, faves, and reviews give me power._

* * *

Flip's crying had subsided to the occasional sob by the time they reached the Voot. He'd gotten himself under control, though he was still a bit shaky and worn out from his ordeal. Zim placed Flip on the seat beside him after boarding the Voot, plotted an automatic course back to the base, and took off.

As they left the forest behind, Zim faced Flip away from him, and made a long slice up the side of his onesie with a Pak leg tip. He slipped the garment off and tossed it behind the seat, dirty and full of holes as it was.

"Your new clothes are ready and waiting to be ordered," Zim said. Flip huddled up to Zim for warmth. "Just as soon as we get back to the base." Flip's skin was slightly pink from prolonged contact with the damp material, but he didn't appear to be hurt.

Zim crossed his arms and settled back into his seat, watching clouds rush by. "The Tallest will be _so _furious when they hear about those imposter elites," he said. "But _so_ happy to know Zim gave them the explosion they deserved."

* * *

The New York City skyline was coming into view on the horizon when Zim got a call. He touched a button, and Skoodge appeared on a video holo-screen.

"Hey Zim!" Skoodge was wearing his human disguise: a fiery orange pompadour with triangle shades. "Minimoose said you went on a rescue mission?"

Zim frowned. Skoodge had chosen that absolutely hideous disguise the previous year, and refused to deviate from it. "Yes, something like that. What do you want?"

Skoodge glanced at something off-screen. "Uh, you might wanna land somewhere that's not the base."

Laser-zaps sounded from Skoodge's left, and a dog-suited GIR flew behind him in a smoky, screaming arc. He hit the asphalt and said, "I'm gonna do it again!" before running back with half his disguise scorched off.

Zim squinted. Skoodge was standing in a familiar cul-de-sac. "What's going on?"

"The base went nuts! Your security keeps attacking us, and we can't get in the house." Skoodge held up and armload of shopping bags. "Where am I gonna put this stuff?!"

Zim growled. "_Dib!_ Go to his house and yell at him for hacking into my base. I'll be there shortly." Lasers flashed, and GIR sailed by in the background, the rest of his dog suit burnt to cinders. "And take GIR with you."

"Okay." Skoodge had an unfathomable little smile. "I don't think Dib did it, though."

"Don't sass me! Just go!" Zim cut the transmission, and huffed. "Insubordinate little..."

As the Voot flew over the twilight human metropolis, a soft weight settled against Zim's side. He looked down; Flip was leaning on him, fast asleep. The little smeet was so relaxed, he didn't even stir when Zim placed a hand on his head.

Then he realized—Flip had been using his torso as a pillow throughout the previous transmission. Zim sighed; at least only Skoodge had seen. He didn't know what he'd do if Dib ever saw him like that.

* * *

Stars twinkled in a hazy sky as Zim flew over his base. He didn't stop, though, as the red eyes of his lawn gnomes all aimed up as one. The Voot flashed an enemy warning signal, and Zim wrenched the ship out of laser range just before they fired.

Zim landed in Dib's backyard, beside the patio. He nudged Flip awake as the Voot powered down. He rubbed his eyes and stood, looking groggy, but stayed on his feet. They stepped out of the ship, and Zim cloaked it as a large, expensive barbecue grill.

He walked Flip to the back door, which opened to reveal Skoodge sans disguise. That likely meant Professor Membrane was absent as usual.

"Dib says he didn't do it," Skoodge said.

"Of _course_ he said that," Zim replied.

Flip perked up upon seeing Skoodge, and clung to him in a hug. Skoodge laughed in surprised amusement, and rubbed the top of Flip's head. "Hey, buddy! Where'd your clothes go?"

Zim peered over Skoodge into the kitchen. GIR was lolling around on the counter, rattling the contents of his open head with a wooden spoon. The robot waved his other arm wildly at Zim. Skoodge herded Flip inside, and Zim stepped in after them, closing the door.

Dib sat at the table, leaning on it with crossed arms, his mouth set in a thin line. It seemed he wanted words with Zim. Quite a few of them.

"Before you start the word-vomit," Zim said, holding up a finger right as Dib opened his mouth, "my student needs a place to rest."

Gaz announced from the living room couch, "Not in my room!"

Dib sighed. "Fine. But you have to tell me what the deal is with..." He gestured at the naked smeet, who was rubbing his arms and staring half-lidded at the kitchen linoleum.

"Flip," Zim supplied. "And I don't have to tell you anything. But I suppose you're allowed to know... something."

During this exchange, Skoodge dug through one of the shopping bags he'd stashed under the kitchen table. He went up to Flip, and pulled a baggy mauve sweater over his head.

"Here ya go, little buddy," Skoodge said, stepping back. Flip raised his arms, sleeve ends dangling, and hugged the fabric to himself. Skoodge turned to Zim and said, "I actually got that for you, since you're into purple stuff."

Zim accepted the gift by saying, "But it's the _wrong_ kind of purple."

"Oh."

Dib got up from the table, and headed toward the stairs at a resigned pace. Zim gave Flip a little push to get him to follow along.

* * *

Dib sat backwards in his desk chair, facing the bed. Zim was perched on the edge of the mattress, while Flip sat in the middle with Dib's pillow clutched to his chest. The smeet gazed everywhere, trying to take in all the odd pictures, notes, and symbols posted around the purple room, despite his heavy eyelids.

"I think I deserve to know," Dib said, "since I saved his life and all."

"I'll decide that." Zim turned to Flip, who was nodding into the pillow as he gradually failed to stay awake. "You can sleep now."

"Invaders don't sleep," Flip murmured into the pillow. "How come we're not in our house?"

Zim kept his tone even. "Don't worry about it. Just do as I say."

Flip's eyes closed, and he slowly tipped over sideways, pillow still in his sweater-sleeved hands.

"Now," Zim said, facing Dib with his hands folded in his lap. "What did you do to my base?"

Dib sputtered. "Nothing! Skoodge even told you!"

"Who else would do it?" Zim dropped diplomacy for insistence. "You're the only one around with the _infuriating_ will and capacity."

"Okay, so I did that a few times before," Dib said. "Not this time, though. You haven't been plotting anything evil lately, so I haven't had a reason to. Not as much of one, anyway."

Zim smirked, showing teeth. "But I _have_ been plotting, you oblivious worm." He cocked his head back at Flip. "I'm training a future death machine."

Dib stared at the tiny Irken cuddling the pillow in his sleep, almost lost in that purple sweater. "So... I guess the gene therapy worked out?"

"Oh yes! Yes it did. I'm glad I appropriated it."

Dib rolled his eyes. "You're welcome."

"It worked even better with Pak technology." Zim crossed his arms and sat up tall. "He'll be terrorizing the universe for centuries to come."

"That's... great?" Dib shifted in his chair. "So your leaders don't think it's weird or anything that he's still alive?"

"_No_," Zim said, the 'idiot' unspoken. "In fact, they were so impressed, they declared my mentorship finished."

"So they want him back."

"Yes." Zim narrowed his eyes. "Two imposters posing as Irken elite soldiers arrived at the base earlier today, and made off with my student. But they crashed back on Earth somehow." He glared at his fists clenched in his lap. "After I tracked them down, they tried to attack us, but we took care of it."

Dib leaned forward against the back of his chair. "But why would some alien randos want to kidnap an Irken child? Were they gonna hold him for ransom?"

"They were after his eyes," Zim said. "I just gave him Invader-issue optical implants. He has the sight of world-destroyers."

"Invader-issue?" Dib's voice pitched up a bit in disbelief. "But he's like... a baby."

Zim sneered. "Irkens do not have a helpless larval stage like _humans_ do. He's thirty-three days old, and perfectly capable of devastating all you know and love."

Flip rolled over, still clutching the pillow. Zim glanced back at him, then faced Dib. "I've told you more than enough. If _you_ didn't hack into the base, then find out who did."

Dib sighed. "I'd say 'no,' but I have three aliens and a crazed robot running around my house." He turned in his chair to sit normally, and scooted up to his desk. A hotkey press and a couple clicks later, he'd opened a direct link to Zim's base.

Zim backed up onto the bed, watching Dib work. He wanted to be mad at how flawlessly the human evaded his digital defenses, but he'd been doing it almost since Zim's arrival on Earth. That was dedication even a superior species could acknowledge, and absolutely never admit.

Dib ceased his rapid typing. "Well, that's new. I didn't know you changed firewalls."

"But I haven't." Zim leaned forward to peer at Dib's monitor. "Oh, no wonder. That's a standard-issue Irken military firewall. Mine are all modifications so advanced, they barely look anything like it."

Dib rolled his chair away from the desk and gestured at the screen. "You already know how to get through this?"

Zim hopped off the bed and retrieved a small object from his Pak. "Not even your primitive input devices can stop me."

He walked past a confused Dib, and stood on tiptoe to plug the handheld device into a USB port on Dib's monitor.

Dib's chair squeaked. "Hey! If you just uploaded an alien trojan—"

A holographic Irken keyboard appeared from the device, and Dib shut up. Zim glided his fingers across the transparent keys, broke through the firewall, and accessed the base computer's inner workings.

Every last command circuit was locked in a hard red glow. The holo-keyboard blipped off as Zim staggered back from the desk.

"This is the work of the Irken military," he stated. "But why would they—after I specially prepared a future Invader for them? Like they _asked?_"

Dib said, "Do they even _like_ you on your home planet?" Zim shot him a glare. "What if those fake soldiers you mentioned were actually the real thing?"

Zim's base had detected Luca and Kree's designations without a hitch. He darted for the computer again.

"That can't be it." The holo-keyboard reappeared as Zim dove back into his overridden computer. He spent several seconds navigating locked circuits. "There! That's the signal. Now to track it back to its source. We'll see who thinks they can make a fool of _Zim!_"

Zim pressed the touch-sensitive keyboard hard enough to make a pixel-ripple. The hacking status window scrolled with Irken symbols, shoving every line above it off-screen.

The symbols formed a familiar logo, complete with copyright information for the greatest vessel in the Irken Armada.

The Massive.

The hologram vanished as Zim's hands fell limp. "It's a trick."

Dib skimmed the text from his chair. "Isn't that the ship your leaders are always on? Can you call them?"

Zim rounded on Dib with increasingly offended tones. "Call the Tallest? From the home of my _enemy?_ After my base has been _compromised?!_"

"What if you told 'em, I dunno, some jerk duplicated their flagship's electronic signature?"

Zim mused at the carpet. "Yes... that makes sense. That could be it." He raised his head for a swift scan of the bedroom. "I'll have to use the television downstairs."

He rushed to the doorway, then paused to look back at Flip. The smeet hadn't moved from his spot on the bed since falling asleep.

Zim pointed at Dib. "No touching," he said, and hurried downstairs.


	6. Taking What's Yours

Zim thundered down the stairs, leaving Dib with the smeet. Dib left his chair to sit on the bed, frowned, and lifted a hand from the blanket to find dirt and grass blades stuck to it. He made a face and rubbed his hand on his jeans. The alien had tracked mud into his house. That _jerk._

Flip looked kind of grubby, too, and had a rain-damp soil smell. The region hadn't seen rain for a week, so Dib imagined he must have ended up pretty far away.

The smeet curled into the pillow and whimpered, eyes shut tight. Dib had seen Zim sleep on rare occasions, despite the alien's strident claims that Irkens did no such thing. But Flip was hardly over a month old, and apparently hadn't had a fun day. He'd barely been awake when he arrived.

Dib edged closer. He reached out, slowly lowering a hand onto Flip's arm. When he made contact, and nothing ripped his guts out, he kept it there.

Flip quieted at the touch, relaxing his grip on the pillow.

* * *

Zim walked in on Gaz playing her Game Slave 2 on the couch. A splatterporn movie on low volume played in the background. Skoodge and GIR were busy with a card game in the kitchen, though GIR was more interested in eating them.

"I require the use of your television," Zim said, "so that I may call my _glorious_ leaders! And I can't have them seeing me with one of the lesser species." He shooed at Gaz one-handed. "Away with you!"

Gaz paused the game to look up, said "No," and unpaused.

Zim stood there, shrugged, and turned to mess with the television's wiring. No use arguing with Dib's scary sister.

A moment later, the violent movie switched to a red Irken logo on a black background, ready to transmit to the Massive. Zim glanced back at Gaz. She hadn't moved off the couch, or ceased her handheld pixel slaughter. Zim decided to pretend she wasn't there, and made the call.

The TV image switched to Tallests Red and Purple, cheering at something off-screen.

"Make the gnomes do the sparkler thing again!" Red said. A series of muffled laser-crackles sounded, and the leaders of Irk threw their arms up in screaming mirth.

"My Tallest," Zim cut in, murdering their laughter. Red and Purple faced him with a collective jerk, eyes wide.

Purple turned to yell at an operator. "You're supposed to _tell_ us when we get calls! What do we spend years training you for? To tell us when we get calls!"

Red joined Purple in glowering at whichever unlucky operator his co-leader had rounded on. "Especially if they're from—" He stopped himself and swiftly returned his attention to Zim, clearing his throat. "So, what is it? We're kind of busy here."

Something stemmed Zim's usual rush of pride. Maybe he'd been a little forward in foregoing the whole "call acceptance procedure" the operators were supposed to handle, but that was in the past.

"My Tallest, I've discovered an enemy most _disrespectful_ of the Irken empire," Zim said with proper contempt. "They've infiltrated my base with an electronic signature identical to the Massive's. Rest assured, I will hunt down this insidious hacker-beast, and bring their flayed and twitching body to you myself."

The two leaders turned to each other, and Purple gestured between themselves. Red held up a hand, to Purple's disappointment, and the latter stood by as Red started speaking.

"It's like this, Zim. You wouldn't let us take back the smeet, so we took back your base."

Zim's mouth fell open. "Wouldn't let you—but they were imposters! They tried to steal my student's eyeballs! And I _made_ that base, there is no taking it back!"

"You wouldn't even have it if it weren't for us," Red pointed out. "Also, you killed two of our most promising new Invaders."

"So there's that!" Purple chimed in.

Zim stared from one Tallest to the other, wide-eyed.

"So long, Zim. Have fun with your ship fuel reject." Red waved and added a chipper, "Hope it was worth it!" before the TV went black.

"My Tallest? Wait!" Zim clambered onto the long table in front of the TV, knocking Membrane merchandise off the surface in the process. He jumped and grabbed the top of the wall-mounted television, feet braced against the screen. "This doesn't make any sense!"

"Hey!" Gaz's GS2 snapped shut. "If you break the TV, I _will_ rip out your skull."

Zim stayed that way for a couple seconds, then let his body go slack, still dangling. He thumped his head softly against television, and left it there.

After another moment, he dropped to the long table, then the floor, before trudging his way back upstairs.

* * *

Skoodge lowered himself back behind the couch, where GIR was still chewing on some cards from their botched Space Poker game.

"Oh jeez." Skoodge gripped his shirt collar and gnawed at his lip. "I knew I shouldn't have..."

GIR opened his mouth, spit-covered cards oozing to the floor. "_Why_ they wanna take John Henry's eyes so bad?" he sang off-key, turning his head 90 degrees sideways.

"You're not supposed to just—" Skoodge gestured broadly. "_Give_ 'em to people. You gotta work through training with the ones you started with. Same as everybody else. But, I dunno, I thought maybe this was an exception!"

GIR's head ticked back to its normal position. "Aw, he not allowed to see good?"

Skoodge worried at his collar some more. "I don't think that's all he's not allowed to do."

* * *

Dib didn't notice Zim was in his room again until the alien had already gone past the doorway. He flinched his hand back from Flip's tiny shoulder, in case Zim got territorial.

Zim didn't even look at them. He walked over and sat with a slump against the bedpost, knees up and head in his hands.

Dib laced his fingers together in his lap, choosing his next words carefully. "So... how'd it go?"

Zim stared at the floor. "I have to get the base back under my control. We have nowhere else to go."

Dib glanced between the two Irkens in his room. "Whatever happened to your toy moose-thing? He didn't show up in the mass alien exodus from your house."

Zim jerked his head up so fast his antennae bounced. "That's it!" He sprang to his feet, and leapt into Dib's computer chair. A tiny hole opened in the lower-right section of his Pak, and a thin cord slithered out. Its jack split into four clawed sections, and whipped behind Dib's computer. Wires erupted from the jack sections, connecting to every open port in the back of his rig.

"Hey!" Dib rushed for the computer chair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Zim didn't react when Dib grabbed him by the shoulders. Dib leaned over to get a better look at his face—the Irken's eyes had gone blank.

Dib glanced up when his monitor flickered. A small pink dot raced through the winding red circuitry displayed on-screen.

* * *

Zim had left the meat-world the second his Pak connected with Dib's machine. He'd injected a code to upload his awareness directly to the base.

He was pure consciousness surrounded in blinding crimson, like being too close to a red-giant star. At this level of infiltration, there were no keyboards, programs, or even a body to add cumbersome degrees of separation.

He didn't need a corporeal sense of physical space to find what he wanted. Zim navigated deep within his base computer, zipping from node to node, until he found where they all connected: the AI brain.

He attacked the house brain with conflicting subroutines, until the surrounding red faded to white. The return of shapes and sounds also brought a multiplication of sight—camera feeds from everywhere within the base. Somewhere, an alarm blared.

On mere impulse, Zim locked onto the exact camera feed he needed. Minimoose was lying upside-down on the living room couch, the picture of placidness. It was like he couldn't hear the buzzing alarms approaching from behind.

Zim's voice boomed through the house as its deity. "_Minimoose!_" Minimoose flipped upright, looking about wildly. "This is your master speaking! Release the Robo-Parents, and—"

Red silence flooded the world the instant the alarms caught up. All color rushed away to a vanishing pinpoint, and Zim plummeted through empty space.

Zim stared at a familiar purple ceiling, with Dib's desk chair toppled over beside him. He sat up and shook the fuzz out of his head.

Dib towered over him. "What just happened?"

Zim got to his feet and dusted himself off. "The base computer's defenses kicked me out faster than I anticipated," he said, setting the chair upright. He climbed back into it, and faced the monitor. "I didn't get a chance to elaborate, but Minimoose should know what to do."

* * *

Minimoose hadn't missed Zim's intention. The Robo-Parents were so broken, they acted independently from the rest of the base. The Massive's electronic takeover hadn't included them.

Minimoose flew past the TV, locked with an Irken logo on every channel, to the narrow side closets. He opened both doors.

The Robo-Parents swirled out in a shower of celebratory sparks, spouting nonsense that was likely multiple parental phrases vying for vocal dominance. Robo-Mom zoomed to the kitchen, and Robo-Dad tore off his head and one of his arms to play golf in the living room. Minimoose floated in place; this was better than TV.

Loud banging came from the kitchen as Robo-Mom couldn't get the oven to start. Despite the base refusing to power the appliance, it exploded anyway, shorting out the base itself. Robo-Dad power-drove his head through a window as the house went dark, shattered glass bouncing off dead lawn gnomes.

Minimoose darted out the broken window and soared into the cul-de-sac. The front door creaked, and he turned. Robo-Mom (glowing green casserole in one melting hand) and Robo-Dad (sparking from his neck stump) stood in the open doorway, waving goodbye with their remaining arms.

Minimoose squeaked, and flew for Dib's house. He wasn't worried about the Robo-Parents destroying the base—they'd be too busy finally getting to meet the neighbors.


	7. Invaders Don't Sleep

Zim didn't have to wait long for Dib's hacking program to show a 'connection lost' message. That meant the base's power was offline, along with its connection to the Massive.

"That'll have to do for now," Zim said, hopping down from Dib's desk chair. "Minimoose should be here shortly." He climbed onto the bed.

Dib reclaimed his chair, and pointed. "Can you try _not_ getting your grubby boots all over my covers?" Zim frowned, then sat on the edge of the bed, turning back to look at Flip. "Where'd you guys fly in from, anyway?"

"You ask too many questions," Zim said. "As soon as Minimoose arrives, I can begin work on restoring my base's functionality. And prevent future hijacking from—others." He crossed his arms, staring at his lap. "The less time I spend in your filthy house, the better."

"If my house is so filthy, then why do you come here every time you're in..." Dib trailed off. Zim was on his hands and knees, observing Flip. "What?"

"He shouldn't be sleeping this much."

"He's a month old."

Zim countered Dib's comment with a glare. "He's _Irken_. He shouldn't be sleeping at all." He shuffled into a sitting position. "He still needs to tell me what happened while he was gone."

Dib sighed, resigned to dirty boots on covers. He turned in his desk chair and sat with his arms crossed over the backrest. "Can't it wait? You've hardly been here an hour."

"There's no _reason_ this should wait." Zim gave Flip's shoulder a little shake. The smeet scrunched up his closed eyes and mumbled. "Come on, Flip. I need a full report on what happened after you left the base."

Flip blinked and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the oversized sweater sleeves.

"What happened after you left with those so-called elite soldiers?" Zim prompted. "We didn't leave either of them alive for questioning, so you're the only one who knows."

"Oh. Right." Flip held Dib's pillow to his chest. "I got on the ship, and we went into space. Then that one guy, Luca, he got out this eye-puller thing, and..." He dropped his gaze, clenching his claws into the pillow.

Zim leaned in. "And then what?"

"He tried to take 'em out." Flip shut his eyes. "He wanted 'em 'cause they didn't give him any when he passed the Invader test."

Zim sat back, frowning. "How could an imposter take the Invader exam in the first place?"

"They ganged up on me, but I shot their hyperdrive, and it melted. And then..." Flip paused, bunching up the pillow in both hands. "I crashed the ship back on Earth."

"But your flight training hasn't covered any ships of that class yet," Zim said.

"The navigation was kinda the same. I found the thrusters, and turned 'em all the way up."

Zim nodded. "And after you landed?"

Flip stopped squeezing the pillow as he took a few seconds to reply. Zim suspected Flip's Pak-memory was speeding through a blank spot to the next point of consciousness. "I woke up in those woods. The other two guys were still knocked out, so I ran away."

"That's it? You didn't do anything?"

"It started raining." Flip sounded plaintive.

"So you hid from your enemies for _how_ long?"

Flip drew his knees up behind the pillow. "I dunno."

"Until I got there?"

"I dunno."

Zim huffed. "Your enemies were helpless before you. That's when you're supposed to _shoot_ them, not cower like—like an amateur!" Flip ducked his head. "What if you hadn't gotten another chance? What if I hadn't been there? If that Ripper hadn't crashed, I wouldn't have known to—"

Flip jerked his head up. "Would you really not have come and got me?" His eyes glistened, and he spoke in a stricken whisper.

Zim glanced at Dib, who was still watching them. "Don't be ridiculous." He didn't need to deal with Flip bursting into tears in front of the human. Better not to consider the outcome of never receiving that distress signal, anyway.

Flip's eyes fell to the pillow again. "Where's GIR and Skoodge?"

"Probably sloth-beasting around downstairs," Zim said, peering through the bedroom doorway. "Minimoose should've arrived by now." He hopped off the bed. "Stay here, and don't touch the human."

* * *

As Zim thumped down the stairs, Flip's antennae perked. "Human?" He turned his head to Dib, still sitting backwards in his desk chair. Flip had been too focused on Zim before to notice him.

Dib raised a hand. "Hi."

Flip's antennae shot straight up as he stared intently at Dib with big green eyes. "Are you really Dib?" Flip asked in reverent awe.

Dib fidgeted at the unusually positive attention, though he didn't remember introducing himself. "Uh, yeah. How did you...?"

"Wow, it's the real human Dib!" Flip bounced in place. "You look almost the same as on the computer."

"Oh," Dib said, uncomfortably reminded of how much personal info his sworn enemy had logged on him.

"My name's Flip. I'm training to be an Invader." He grinned like a kindergartener announcing his plans to become an astronaut. "I'm gonna be a destroyer of worlds, just like Teacher."

Dib smirked and rested his chin on folded arms. "Y'know Zim hasn't actually completed his invasion of Earth, right?"

Flip held the pillow close and leaned his head into it. "Teacher says it won't be long before every filthy Earth creature trembles at his feet on the scorched remains of their ruined world," he said in a dreamy tone.

"Are you gonna help him?"

"Uh-huh." Flip closed his eyes.

"Are you gonna destroy me, too?"

"Uh-huh." Flip's eyes flew open. "No wait, I think Teacher wants to do that. He'd get mad if I did it."

"Yeah, I guess he would." Dib got up from his chair. "I'm gonna check on things downstairs."

Flip nodded into the pillow. "Okay."

"Don't touch my stuff."

Flip laid the pillow beside him, smoothing the creases with slow, methodical movements. "Okay."

"You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Invaders don't sleep."

"I know." Dib left the room.

* * *

Zim found Skoodge on the couch downstairs, holding Minimoose in his lap. When Minimoose squeaked at his master's arrival, Skoodge looked up, and immediately broke eye contact.

"Oh! Hey. Didn't see ya there."

"Don't be casual with _Zim_." He stalked up to Skoodge. "Unhand my Minimoose! How long have you been keeping him from me?!"

"I haven't." Skoodge held out Minimoose, and Zim swiped him away. "We were just... talking."

"Mm-hm." Zim examined Minimoose, then focused on the rear viewfinder. "Show me a record of what happened when the base was hacked. Maybe they left some kind of explanation."

Minimoose's butt lit up, showing a dirty primate covered in flies on Zim's living room TV.

Zim made a disgusted noise. "Haven't they canceled that horrible show yet?"

"Nyeh."

"Don't start with your 'cartoon analysis,'" Zim said. "Human entertainment has _no_ depth. It's all worthless, sewage-spewing—"

His TV blipped to the Irken logo. The base computer's voice boomed from the recording directly into his brain. "This base has been repossessed by the Irken Empire. Deal with it. Have a nice day."

The message went on droning repeat. A red glow climbed the walls, enveloping everything in crimson. Furniture whipped past as Minimoose darted around the house, finding every lift and hatch locked down. The view blurred upward to security lasers criss-crossed over the ceiling tubeworks.

Gnome lasers fired outside, followed by screaming. Minimoose zoomed to the window in time to watch an orange-pompadoured Skoodge scramble back out of the yard, a fresh scorch mark on the front walk.

"This base has been repossessed by the Irken Empire. Deal with it. Have a nice day."

Zim released Minimoose, and playback ended as the nubby robot floated away. Zim turned to Skoodge, still sitting on the couch. The other Irken didn't avert his eyes this time.

"They took over my base," Zim stated, as if that admission was necessary to make it real.

Skoodge said, "Yup."

Zim stared down at his hands. "After all I've done for the advancement of the Irken Empire, they took my beautiful base away from me."

"They took stuff from me, too." Skoodge counted on his fingers. "My SIR unit, my Invader cred, my free snack coupons..."

"This is more _important_ than any of that!" Zim jumped up to stand on the couch beside Skoodge, gaining negligible height on him. "How am I going to complete the invasion without a functional base? How am I supposed to educate Flip on the finer points of global annihilation?"

"I don't think they want him back anymore," Skoodge said. "So it doesn't matter if he learns how to be an Invader."

Zim stomped the couch cushion. "Of _course_ it matters! I'm not letting a momentary lapse in judgement from the Tallest ruin my plans." He plopped down next to Skoodge, and crossed his arms. "They sent Flip to _me_ for a reason. Perhaps they've forgotten why. Otherwise, why would they act so erratically about him?"

"The Tallest have stuff they tell to everybody, except the one guy they wanna keep in the dark."

Zim scoffed. "That's ridiculous. What's stopping them from asking somebody else what's going on?"

Skoodge shrugged. "Beats me."

Zim leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I suppose I'll have to cut off intergalactic communications before I can get the base restored."

"That'll make it hard to shop for important stuff."

Zim grumbled. "I was just about to get Flip a proper Invader uniform, too."

Skoodge drummed his fingers on his legs. "It's probably still in the base's internet history." He looked sidelong at Zim. "I could go get it, so you could download it from here."

Zim turned to meet his gaze. "But the base has no power."

Skoodge grinned. "GIR can jimmy the doors."

Zim blinked, then catapulted off the couch. "Then what're you waiting for?!" He yelled across the house, "_GIR!_ Come here!"

GIR dropped head-first out of nowhere, drenching the carpet, and sprang to attention.

Zim squinted an eye at his dripping robot. "Were you drinking from the toilet again?"

GIR opened his mouth, and more water poured out. "Can't resist the cosmic treat!"

Zim sighed. "Go help Skoodge break into the base."

"Okie-dokie!" GIR whipped a dog-costume out of his head, stepped into it, and zipped up on the way to the door. He bounced in place with squeaky feet as Skoodge hopped off the couch.

Minimoose passed Zim on his way to join them, but Zim snatched him out of the air. "Not you. I need at least one minion on stand-by."

"Nyehhh." Minimoose's disappointment failed to change his expression. Zim let go, and Minimoose floated away.

Dib came downstairs in time to watch the front door close behind a freshly-pompadoured Skoodge. "Aw man, did Skoodge just leave on a donut run?" He gave the door a wistful look.

"_Actually_, I sent him on an urgent mission, which I don't have to tell you anything about," Zim said.

Dib rolled his eyes. "No crullers, then." He walked to the fridge and rummaged through its contents. "Also, I'm gonna need my bed back in a couple of hours, 'cause it's a school night."

Zim swept both hands toward the couch. "You have a perfectly serviceable replacement right here. I don't see what the problem is."

Dib shut the fridge and unwrapped a half-eaten sub. "Then your mini-Irken can sleep there instead of in _my_ bed."

"He's sleeping _again?_"

"Didn't say he was," Dib muttered around a bite of cold cuts as Zim rushed upstairs.

The smeet was curled around the pillow on Dib's bed, and true to Zim's suspicions, fast asleep. His student was shedding discipline with every minute he spent in the human's house, Zim thought, climbing up next to Flip.

He put a hand on the smeet's shoulder to shake him, then stopped. Flip was shivering in the oversized sweater.

Zim leaned over to brush his antennae over the smaller Irken. A moment later, he shot upright, and gathered Flip into his arms.

He returned to the living room with Flip's head resting on his shoulder, sweater sleeves dragging behind them. Dib sat on the couch with an almost-finished sub. He was trying and failing to change channels with the remote.

"Thanks for breaking my TV." Dib tossed the remote onto the couch beside him.

Zim ignored Dib's complaints as he walked up to him. "What did you do?"

Dib looked at the tiny Irken shivering against Zim. "I didn't do anything."

"But something's wrong."

"He apparently spent all day crashing spaceships and getting traumatized," Dib pointed out.

"That's _nothing_ to an Irken!"

"He's a _one-month-old!_"

Flip clutched Zim's shirt as they raised their voices; Zim glanced at him, distracted. Dib sighed and rubbed his forehead. "How do one-month-old Irkens usually spend their time?"

Zim took a few seconds to respond. "They perform training simulations deep underground. It was ten years before I saw Irk's surface for the first time."

"Well, there ya go." Dib popped the last bite of his sub sandwich into his mouth.

"I don't understand." Zim stared down at a trailing mauve sleeve. "Irkens are survivors. Pak functionality alone makes us the most resilient force in the universe."

"Didn't he almost die from that organ-melty thing like two weeks ago?"

Zim shook his head. "That shouldn't matter now. I fixed his genes. I watched them replicate and restore all the damage."

"Well... he's a little kid. He hasn't really experienced anything yet," Dib said. "Maybe it's not a good idea to rush him through this. Don't Irkens live for hundreds of years or something? So what's the hurry?"

Zim met Dib's eyes. "The Tallest entrusted him to me as my apprentice. He must become an Invader worthy of the empire." He focused on Flip, whose shivering had lessened.

"What's the matter with him, anyway?"

"He doesn't... _feel_ right." It was difficult to put into words the sheer amount of information he'd picked up from that antenna check upstairs. "His vital functions are depressed, but I'm not entirely sure why."

"Let me see."

Zim jerked his head up to glare, but relented. Dib, only slightly less of a child since their first encounter, was holding out his hands as if asking to hold a puppy.

Zim used his Pak legs to lever himself onto the couch beside Dib, and placed Flip between them. The human hovered a hand over Flip, hesitant, then touched the side of his face.

"Did he feel kind of warm to you?" Dib asked, and Zim nodded. "Probably exhaustion. So it wouldn't hurt to let him sleep." He got up from the couch. "He can have my pillow tonight, since he already got his grubby little claws all over it."

Zim looked up at him. "What about the bed?"

"I'm using it tonight. You guys can share the couch."

"But—"

Dib crossed his arms. "No aliens allowed in my room while I'm sleeping."

Zim jutted out his lower jaw, but stayed put as Dib went upstairs.

Flip started moving around, catching Zim's attention as the smeet sat up and hugged his knees to his chest inside the sweater.

"Flip, tell me what's wrong," Zim said. Maybe a command would get him what he wanted.

Flip stared dismally at his feet. "I'm tired. And cold."

He shifted inside the sweater, and the collar slid halfway down his Pak. Zim leaned in—horizontal bruises discolored the back of Flip's neck in two distinct purple lines, too thin to be a human's.

Zim laid a hand on the bruises, and Flip stiffened. "What made these marks?"

"They... one of them grabbed me, when we were on the ship." He swallowed. "It really hurt."

Zim took his hand away before it compulsively formed a fist. Those fakes had stolen _and_ manhandled his student.

"Why did you give me an incomplete report?" Zim didn't hide the edge in his voice. "It's not like you could've forgotten what happened."

"It's too _scary_ to remember!" Flip shut his eyes and laid his antennae flat, voice shaking. "Th-they ganged up on me, and..."

"All right, all right! That's enough." Zim didn't like the way Flip was starting to hyperventilate. Better to placate him than deal with another crying fit. "We blew them to bits, anyway."

Flip's eyes opened, wet with tears. "Is everyone on our home planet a huge jerk?"

Zim held up a finger and opened his mouth for a lengthy and educational answer. Then he faced the stairs, where Dib was waiting with a pillow under one arm. "How long have you been standing there?"

Dib shrugged. "Not long enough to hear anything useful." He walked over and dropped the pillow in front of Flip, who latched onto it with his arms and legs. Dib went back to the stairs and said, "I'll be in my room. If you make a bunch of noise all night, I'll... I dunno. Find something sharp and electric." His non-committal threat faded upstairs with him.

Flip snuggled into the pillow. "When're we goin' home?"

"After I secure the base," Zim said. "It isn't safe to go back yet." He peered at the front door. "I sent GIR and Skoodge to retrieve something important from it."

"Are they gonna be back soon?"

Zim relaxed against the back of the couch, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't get my hopes up."


	8. Base Intentions

Skoodge and GIR infiltrated Zim's base late that night. Not that it was hard, because somebody had left a large, convenient hole in one of the front windows. After Skoodge lifted GIR inside, the robot undid the latch, and opened the window to let Skoodge in.

The darkness inside the living room was somehow more unsettling than the red glow from before. Aside from GIR's hugging, kissing, face-between-cushions reunion with the couch, it was silent. The constant functioning hum of Skoodge's Pak crept up the back of his antennae.

Stowing his human disguise, Skoodge went to the waste bin lift in the kitchen. "Okay, GIR," he called back to the living room. "C'mere and do your thing."

GIR boinged off the couch in a somersault to land right in front of the waste bin. Then he grasped the front of his dog costume, and burst out of it like a tiny deranged Superman. "I'm gonna rustle some jimmies!" He grabbed the bin and hoisted. Metal shrieked as he ripped the transport tube connected to the bottom several inches out of the floor. Then he jerked it sideways, tearing the waste bin off the top.

The little robot took a step back from his carnage and said, "All done!" He celebrated by cannonballing down the exposed tube. Skoodge glanced at the destroyed waste bin, then followed suit.

He immediately started screaming. The shaft went straight down into the bowels of the base, with no lift to come up and meet him. Skoodge shot his Pak legs out and braced them against the curved walls; he stopped after scraping down ten more feet. Suspended above yawning nothingness, he listened hard to determine where GIR might have gone. Silence.

He knew the transport tube layout, though, and carefully spidered down to the first branching tunnel. It ended in a closed door. GIR wasn't around to jimmy it, but Skoodge managed to pry it open with his Pak legs and meat-arms.

He stepped inside the research room. The only light came from GIR sitting in the middle of the floor, body contorted to fit both feet into his mouth.

"How'd you get in here?" Skoodge asked, trotting up to the robot.

GIR stopped slobbering to shrug and give an "I dunno" sound. Skoodge stepped around him, focusing on the main control panel made partly visible by GIR's lights.

He crouched below it, and deployed marginal-strength Pak-lasers to open a precise square hole. Easing the detached metal to the floor, he revealed a grid of inactive memory disks. He hovered a pointer finger along the first row, went to the next, and stopped in the middle to yank one out. The iridescent memory disk, three-quarters enclosed in a stiff black cartridge, was identical to all the others—on the outside.

Skoodge held it up, and smiled. "That should do it. Now we just have to—"

"Oooh." GIR's awed cooing interrupted him. "It's blinking."

Skoodge turned with a little frown. GIR's eyelights were focused on the only other source of illumination: a flashing red button.

"What the—but the base has no power." Skoodge stepped in to scrutinize it. "How is this even—" GIR raised a hand toward the button, and Skoodge gasped. "Wait, stop! That's the—"

GIR slammed his head on it instead. It went from blinking red to solid blue, radiating azure patterns of circuitry all over the walls, floor, and ceiling.

The robot gawked at the light show, completely unaware that he had just hit the base computer's factory reset button. Skoodge could only watch in horror as all the data gathered over the last three years, aside from the memory disk in his hands, vanished in a calm blue wave.

"Loading Invader base AI," said the computer's voice. A purple light enveloped Skoodge, and he jumped. "Invader ID Pak detected. Welcome to your new base, Invader Skoodge."

Skoodge stared upward as the blue circuitry gave way to normal base lighting, the whirr of advanced technology washing away the previous silence.

"Hi!" GIR yelled at the ceiling. "I missed youuu!"

Skoodge turned the memory disk over in his gloved hands. "Hey, Computer?" A soft double-beep sounded from above. "Cut off all outside communication."

"Are you sure?" the computer asked in a neutral electronic tone. "If you confirm, the Almighty Tallest will be unable to contact you for progress reports."

"Yes, I'm sure," Skoodge said. "Extra security. They'll understand." He ducked his gaze to the memory disk he was fidgeting with, gnawing at his lip.

"Affirmative. Confirming command." Another series of soft beeps. "Code 450: offline mode activated."

Skoodge let out his breath; he didn't enjoy lying. Not that it mattered if he lied to the computer, which wasn't even a living thing. But he didn't like lying about the Tallest. Who was he to say they'd understand? It's not like he was doing it entirely for his own sake.

He held the memory disk steady in his hands. Solving one problem had only caused another. Zim wasn't going to be thrilled to learn that base ownership had transferred to Skoodge, but he'd work through it. Somehow.

* * *

"This suuucks," Purple moaned, lolling his head against the tilting headrest of his luxurious floating Tallest-chair. It was like the mere act of complaining was killing him.

Red squinted an eye at his co-leader as Purple ate another handful of curly fries from a Foodcourtia-branded bucket. "But you _love_ chili-cheese flavor."

"No, I mean—" Purple waved a gooey hand at a remote surveillance monitor. "_This_ sucks."

The screen showed Zim's front yard, lawn gnomes with their bulbous eyes twitching at every skittering Earth-creature that passed by. One of the house's windows now sported a large, jagged hole.

Red shrugged. "So? I thought we cut the feed after the base went dead somehow."

"I turned it back on to see if it had started working again." Purple slammed more fries into his mouth as Red gave him a withering stare. "Gnome fireworks are awesome, okay?!"

"And you claim _I_ have a laser fetish," Red said, floating a few inches out of range of Purple's food-spittle. He raised his hand, and touched a few buttons on the keypad that floated up to accommodate him. Nothing changed on the monitor. "It's not receiving the Massive's control signal. Zim must have blocked remote communication."

Purple slid down in his chair, the bucket of curly fries now sitting on his chest. "So now what?"

Red shoved the floating holo-keyboard away. It floated to the wall, and zipped up into the ceiling. "I guess we can't even expect _Zim_ to bring an execution bounty down on himself." He turned to Purple. "But we _do_ have a technicality to exploit."

Purple shook the bucket of fries over his open mouth, getting only crumbs. "You mean, stuff that didn't happen?"

"Oh, this is definitely happening." Red grinned. "He didn't let us take the smeet back, so technically, he stole something of ours."

"Not that we wanted it back that badly." Purple tossed the empty bucket elsewhere, and sat up. "Or at all."

"The bounty hunters don't need to know that. All they need is..." Red spread his hands apart, setting up the title. "'Wanted: Dead or Super-Dead for vicious child kidnapping.'"

Now Red had Purple's rapt attention, eyes wide and antennae forward. "That's not what happened at all!"

Red's grin widened. "I know, right?" And Purple grinned back with chili-cheese-colored teeth.

* * *

Zim had just finished returning the living room TV to its original state when Skoodge got back. While Skoodge shut the door and stowed his disguise, Zim went to the couch to check on Flip. The smeet had fallen asleep shortly after Skoodge left.

Zim approached Skoodge at the door. "Well?" he said, crossing his arms and fixing the other Irken with a hard look.

Skoodge whipped out the memory disk in one hand and grinned. "Got the internet history right here. The outfit order should still be on it." Zim softened a bit, and Skoodge added, "Also, I... fixed the base. And shut off communications, just to be safe."

Zim took the offered memory disk in both hands, and nodded. "Good! Then we can leave this place as soon as Flip's uniform is taken care of." Skoodge shifted his feet, staring at something apparently interesting on the far wall. "Wait, where's GIR?"

Skoodge snapped his attention back to Zim, eyes wide. "Huh? Oh. The Robo-Parents were missing, so I sent GIR to find 'em."

Zim slapped his forehead. Skoodge had just ordered an idiot robot to go after two more idiot robots. "Forget I asked. What've you got behind your back?"

Skoodge whipped out his other hand, revealing a box of freshly-picked pastries. "I got _donuts!_"

"Donuts?!"

Zim and Skoodge turned to the excited squeak from the couch. Flip was sitting up, wide awake and green eyes riveted on the box in Skoodge's hands.

The oversized mauve sweater was left with Dib's pillow on the couch as all three Irkens ate donuts at the kitchen table. Flip devoured five, standing in his chair to reach the table. Dib came downstairs, school backpack hanging off one shoulder as he snatched an apple cruller.

Zim claw-swiped after him and hissed. "No touching! Human filth!" He sat down with a thump, cramming a raspberry jelly donut in his face.

After dodging out of reach, Dib turned to address the alien trio. "You got your base back, right? Well, since Dad's out of town, and Gaz and I have to go to school... you gotta leave." He took a bite of the cruller.

Zim swallowed the last half of the jelly donut with some difficulty. "Not until I download Flip's outfit from your internet connection."

"Why does it have to be mine?"

Zim huffed. "I can't risk leaving the base open to further attack. _Why_ is this so difficult to understand?"

"Whatever! Fine." Dib sighed. "Probably screwed up my machine using that Pak-hacking trick last night, anyway. Just download your thing, and leave." He pointed the remaining three-fourths of the cruller at Zim. "If you do _anything_ to this house, I _will_ know."

"Yes, yes, go to school." Zim shooed a hand at Dib. "If anyone there asks, I've gone lion... fishing. In Alaska."

"Those sure are three incomplete ideas that crashed and burned," Gaz said, grabbing the last purple-frosted donut. "C'mon, we're gonna be late."

Dib stuffed the rest of the cruller in his mouth and hurried after his sister. After the front door shut, Zim swiped the memory disk off the table, and hopped to the floor.

"Flip! Come with me." Zim waited a moment as the smeet slid off the chair, licking frosting from his hands, then marched for the stairs.

* * *

Zim had to borrow a few spare parts from the garage and basement lab, but he jury-rigged Dib's PC so it could interface with the memory disk. Using the human's computer meant it would produce a non-Irken signature, so anyone monitoring the connection would never be able to tell Zim was behind it.

The outfit displayed on the hastily-constructed holo-screen buzzed and flickered. However, it didn't affect the quality of the physical product the object transporter spat onto the floor.

Flip furrowed his brow at the baggy clothing pooled on the carpet in front of him.

"What are you waiting for?" Zim said. "Try it on."

"How's it s'posed to fit me?"

"Just put it on and you'll see."

Flip gave his teacher a perplexed glance, but did as he was told. The instant he pulled the shirt over his head, it shrank to the perfect fit. Amazed, Flip rushed to put on the black pants, boots, and gloves, smiling and giggling as each article of clothing conformed to his body.

"Cool!" Flip turned around, looking himself over. His uniform had the classic Irken design, though Zim had opted for a forest-green shirt rather than red. "Now I look just like you, Teacher."

Zim swelled with pride. "Yes, like a proper Invader."

Skoodge observed the outfit with a little frown. "Why green, though? I mean, it's not regulation."

"You said you _liked_ it when I picked it out!" Zim rounded on Skoodge. "You even suggested the purple shoulder accents, one of the few _not-_terrible ideas you've ever had."

Skoodge held up his hands. "Okay, jeez! Can we go now?"

Zim crossed his arms and grumbled at the floor. "We'll have to. Flip still needs a disguise." He headed out of Dib's room, with Skoodge and Flip following behind.

The Voot Cruiser was on the back patio where Zim had left it, still disguised as a fancy grill. He returned the Voot to normal, and they all piled into the ship.

One short trip later, the Voot parked itself inside the roof of the base. Zim jumped out, and took a deep breath of sterile machinery faintly mixed with lemon-scented disinfectant. "Finally! Back in my own—"

"Intruder alert!" Red lights strobed with an alarm buzz at the computer's announcement. "Unknown entities detected within the perimeter."

"It's cool," Skoodge said, hopping out of the Voot with Flip. "They're with me."

The alarms and lights shut off. "Affirmative. Exception granted."

Zim stared at the ceiling, then slowly faced Skoodge. "What just happened?"

Skoodge looked down, eyes following an invisible bug on the floor.

"Did the base computer just call _you_ 'Master?' Why doesn't it recognize _me_ as its master?!"

Skoodge clutched his shirt collar in both hands, sweating bullets.

Zim closed the distance between them with swift strides, and grabbed Skoodge's collar out of his hands. "What did you do to my base?! _What did you do?!_"

Skoodge's eyes bugged out as Zim shook him. "I'm sorry! I told him not to touch it!"

"Told _who_ not to—"

"GIR hit the factory reset button and now the base belongs to me _I'm sorry!_"

Zim froze, their faces inches apart. Skoodge had his eyes shut tight after rattling off that explanation. After a long moment, Zim released the other Irken, opting for yanking on his own antennae instead.

"All that work... _lost!_" Zim walked back to the Voot, and leaned against it with both hands. "All my experiments, my research... Three years on this wretched worm-pile, _wasted!_"

Flip appeared from Zim's right, peeking up from under his arms.

"The happiness probe, the chimeras..." Zim wasn't sure if he was elaborating for Flip's sake, or just recounting what was no longer committed to database memory. "So much for ever perfecting Ultra Peepi."

Flip tilted his head a little. "Didn't he blow up?"

Zim lost his train of lamentation, and peered down between his arms at Flip. "How can you know about that? I've never told you."

Flip shrugged. "Yeah. But I know."

"That happened years before you were born."

"Yeah, but... I remember it. He got real big, went outta control, and you had to shoot him into space. But he exploded instead."

Zim stepped back from the Voot. The events relayed were less like a first-hand account, and more like a simplified log.

Something like electricity jolted Zim into lifting Flip upward. "Of _course!_ Your Pak contains a backup of everything in the database from before you were activated! It'll only be a month out of date!" Skoodge's near-asthmatic gasp punctuated the pause. "That's _perfect!_"

Flip held his arms up and grinned.

* * *

Performing a system restore from Flip's Pak data took only seconds. In that time, Zim regained everything recorded prior to Flip's activation, right up to the manual Pak activation code and spinal drill blueprints.

The lights flickered a bit as the house brain rolled back thirty-some days. But after things settled, the AI regained recognition of Zim as its master, as well as its lackadaisical tone.

"Now that things are back to the way they _should_ be," Zim said, shooting Skoodge a withering look, "it's time to create the perfect disguise for my student."

"Oh, oh!" Flip jumped up and down, waving a hand in Zim's field of vision. "I wanna do it! Please, Teacher?"

Zim looked down at Flip, who practically vibrated with anticipation. "Well, all right." He stepped back from the console, the disguise-maker already on-screen.

Flip darted into the space Zim had just left, while Zim crossed his arms and watched. He trusted his student knew well enough from his lessons that an Invader needed to blend in, so the unsuspecting fools would never see it coming.

Flip opted for a wig-and-contacts disguise like Zim's, swiping the options to a different hairstyle and eye color. He confirmed his choice with one last panel touch, and two halves of an egg-shaped capsule descended from either side.

As Flip swiveled his head quickly from one pod-half to the other, eyes wide and uncomprehending, Zim said, "Hold still. It might tingle."

The two halves slammed together and trapped Flip inside. Beams of light shined out from between them, along with a shocked yelp.

The capsule separated, retreating above to reveal Flip in his brand-new human disguise. His contacts were shaped to fit his round eyes, with light blue irises, a minor difference from Zim's.

His new wig caught Skoodge's attention. "Hey, isn't that from that show you like?"

Flip nodded, the distinct spiky bangs of his dark hairstyle waving slightly. "Yup! Pretty cool, huh?"

Zim didn't recognize the style, but it didn't matter, as long as the disguise fooled the humans. Frankly, he didn't have time to puzzle out whatever references Flip and Skoodge kept making to earless cat robots from the future.


	9. Visitors

During the following two weeks, Flip resumed flight training sims. He finished the introductions to every ship featured in the Armada, and started on the drills. They focused on instilling muscle memory and mastery of increasingly intricate controls.

Though he advanced through flight training at a good clip, his work on modding a new cell disruptor was slow. He meticulously plugged away at it, determined not to mess up and lose all his progress.

Since acquiring a human disguise, Flip was allowed to play outside in his free time, as long as he had somebody with him. He usually dragged Skoodge along, and the older Irken would do his best to keep up with Flip's high energy. Minimoose, despite being easy enough to carry off, was usually too busy doing work for Zim to give in to Flip's demands.

If no one else was looking, Flip took GIR out with him. GIR never said no, never stopped him, and was more than happy to lead the way to fun times. Flip didn't understand what was so fun about some of GIR's weird games, however.

Flip's next chance came one sunny afternoon. While Skoodge was distracted in the kitchen, and Zim was working with Minimoose in the labs, GIR skipped to the door in his dog suit.

By the time the door creaked open, Flip was off the couch, contacts on and wig in hand. "Wait for me!" he whispered, putting his wig on and running outside. He scurried back a second later to quietly close the door behind him.

He caught up with GIR at the end of the front walk, and they left the cul-de-sac together. GIR traipsed through the surrounding neighborhood, performing chaotic parkour on every obstacle in his path. Flip followed in the little robot's wake, under chain-link fences, across catatonic hobos, and through GIR-shaped holes in trimmed hedges.

They stopped for a short rest in a tiny green park. Flip watched GIR chase a big white butterfly, cleaner in appearance than anything else in the city. GIR made one stubby swipe at it, then another, and the butterfly was in his mouth with a crunch.

As they approached the taller buildings and louder traffic downtown, GIR darted into an alley. Flip ran to catch up, and found GIR dancing in place with squeaky feet.

A side door on one of the buildings opened into the alley as a lanky teen, studded with facial piercings, lurched out. He pulled a bulging bag of garbage out with him. Flip ducked back behind the corner as the teen kicked the door shut.

"Here it comes," GIR said in a synthetic squealing whisper. The garbage bag left a shining trail of grease. "Here it comes!"

Grumbling, the teen stepped up to the dumpster facing the door. He swung the lid back, hauled the trash bag overhead, and dropped it in. In the process, grease spattered down on his bright red mohawk, turning his hair back to a brown, greasy mop. He froze, mortified, as his punk piercings fell out in a series of small clinks.

"I'm not cool anymore! _Nooo!_" the teenage boy screamed. He fled to the building, collided with the closed door, opened it, and continued screaming back inside.

GIR cleared the distance from the alleyway opening to the dumpster in one arcing jump, and dove into the open receptacle.

Flip approached the dumpster as ravenous ripping and chomping echoed from within. "What're you _doing?_"

GIR's doggy-suited rear end wriggled above the dumpster rim. He raised his head, mouth open and dripping with lard leavings, soggy lettuce, and already-chomped burger buns.

"Today's trash day," GIR said, pointing to the building behind him. "At _this_ MacMeaties! And tomorrow..." He jabbed in one direction after another. "I'll go to _that_ one! And _that_ one! And—"

GIR stopped, his arm pointing somewhere above Flip's head, and did a slow, non-inhaling gasp. Flip wondered how much practice it took for a robot to imitate the real thing so well, then turned around.

"_He beefy!_" GIR shrieked, grease-slathered, at the hulking figure blocking the alley entrance.

Flip's eyes widened and his jaw went slack as the towering menace, clad in power armor shock-absorbing each heavy step, closed in on the dumpster.

"Hey you," the monster rumbled, gesturing at Flip with the precision rocket-rifle he held with all four arms. "Seen a guy named _Zim_ anywhere 'round here?"

Flip's mouth went dry, while sounds of GIR mashing his face into fast-food refuse resumed from behind. The creature talking to him wasn't Irken, wasn't familiar, and wasn't friendly. Flip couldn't keep his eyes from straying to the seven-foot-long rocket-rifle—his latest weapon project was in a half-finished state in the Making Stuff Room.

His mind raced in the extending silence; the monster wanted to see his teacher. He moved his mouth to form words, and little squeaks came out.

The large alien grunted, squinting dark, shaded eyes. "Not gonna talk, huh? Weird for an Irken not to sell out their own kind."

Flip shrank back, his Pak hitting the dumpster. He'd felt so invincible in his disguise before.

"Think you're too good to talk to me? Typical Irken scum." Four armored arms shifted to point the rocket-rifle at Flip. "If ya ain't gonna talk, I'll just get to the splatterin'."

Flip was sure fright would kill him first, but GIR chose that exact moment to lift his face out of the trash to say, "My master's at home." He jumped out of the trash with a somersault, landing with a squeak. "I'll show you! Follow me to fuuun tiiimes."

"_No_, GIR! We gotta get outta here!" Flip grabbed the robot by the shoulders and yanked him back in mid-prance. GIR's limbs flailed. "Evasive maneuvers!"

GIR responded to the command words with an "Okie-dokie!" and transitioned into his horizontal rocket-legs mode.

"Hey!" the hulking alien protested as Flip hopped on his green doggy ride. "I didn't say you could leave!"

GIR blasted off, escaping between the large alien's power-armored legs. Flip slipped off GIR's greasy dog suit, sitting in mid-air for an instant, before landing on his rear. GIR's rockets quickly faded into the distance.

"Oh," Flip said in a small voice.

The large alien primed his rocket-rifle, the internal engine whirring to life. "Feel like talkin' now? Cuz I ain't got all day. Other hunters'll be swarmin' this dirtball any—"

More power-armored, non-human forms zipped by in the narrow rectangle of sky overhead. The hulking bounty hunter jerked his neckless head up and cursed.

"Of all the lousy timing," he snarled.

He focused on the rapid succession of aliens rocketing by in different shapes and sizes, instead of the one right in front of him. Flip seized the opportunity to rise up on his Pak legs, bunch them up, and leap at the bounty hunter.

* * *

An arcade cabinet took abuse in the middle of the living room as Zim slammed the buttons and worked the joystick for all he was worth. _Lawn Defender _wasn't for fun, however. It was manual control over the lawn gnomes, which couldn't handle the armored intruders flocking to the base on AI alone. The computer had announced their designations as intergalactic bounty hunters. What made bounty hunters scarier than even Invaders was that they never worked solo.

An explosion of return fire rocked the house from outside. Skoodge fell over on his way out of the kitchen, an armload of snack bags scattering in a cacophony of plastic.

"_No!_ Not the eastern phalanx!" Zim mashed the controls, desperate to replace the obliterated gnomes. He slammed a fist on one of the buttons, firing lasers and venting frustration at the same time. "The base defenses weren't designed to stand up to _precision rockets!_"

While Zim stressed over the worsening situation right outside his front door, Skoodge rushed to the waste bin lift—recently repaired—with seven different flavors of Doritos. He dumped them below, and went to check on Zim's game of survival.

"This doesn't make any sense," Zim said, hands in ceaseless motion and eyes glued to the screen. He was running out of strategically-placed green pixels. "Who would send _bounty hunters_ after _Zim?!_"

"Someone who hates you?" Skoodge offered.

The amassing red pixels turned the last green one into a black, blocky paste. Zim stood on tiptoe to draw himself closer to the game screen, as if his glare could transfer through to the enemies outside. "But _who_ would send _this many?!_"

Skoodge shrugged. "I dunno, a lot of people? Like, pretty much our whole race?"

Zim's eyes lingered on the Game Over screen. "But... every Irken idolizes me," he said, turning to Skoodge. "How can they not? How can _you_ not?"

Minimoose swooped into the room, saving Skoodge the trouble of answering. The nubby purple robot mooshed his butt onto Zim's face, nearly overbalancing him.

"What now?!" Zim grabbed Minimoose by his puffy antlers. "Can't you see I'm—"

Minimoose's rear camera flicked to the view outside, and Zim fell silent. Smoking craters and scorch marks dominated the yard. A lone gnome eyeball, wires still attached, rolled across the front walk in the ashen breeze.

Though the house no longer had gnomes to defend it, the bounty hunters appeared to be talking among themselves, rather than attacking. Something flat and electronic flickered in the hands of one, and it wasn't a weapon. Zim tweaked an antler to zoom in.

The holographic document suspended between two holo-rods in the hunter's grip clearly displayed Zim's face.

_Wanted: Dead or very dead. More dead equals more monies._

Jetpacks, jet boots, and other personal propulsion devices roared into the cul-de-sac as more bounty hunters arrived.

Zim released Minimoose, who floated out of his line of sight. Heavy footsteps thundered across the destroyed lawn to the front door.

"Computer," Zim commanded through increasingly agitated breath, "engage lockdown!"

"Oh boy," the computer said with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Engaging total lockdown in ten seconds. Nine..."

Alarms buzzed as the countdown continued. Zim grabbed Minimoose, ran to the lift, and skittered to a halt.

"Wait!" Zim said. Skoodge almost barreled into Zim in his haste to stop running. "Where's GIR?"

The recently-mended window shattered as GIR dove through, dog suit ripping open on the glass.

"Here I am!" GIR announced in all his tiny robot glory, hugging himself. "You found me!"

Zim dashed into the living room, collared GIR, and rushed back to the lift with two seconds remaining on the countdown. He jumped down with a robot under each arm. Skoodge leaped in after him, the waste bin closing as the timer hit zero.

Zim and his designated minions were underground in less than a second. Within a few more, the house detached its parasitic power cables from the surrounding buildings and collapsed on itself, leaving only a flat green panel in the dirt.

While Skoodge made a beeline for his Doritos doomsday stash, Zim activated the atmospheric radar. Red dots swarmed the planet from all directions. Zooming out to galaxy view showed trails of them coming in from every corner of the universe.

With the base locked down, none of the hunters could get in. The base could run the necessary functions on stored power, but only for a few days.

Zim stared at the screen, eyes darting from one hunter trail to another. "At this rate, there'll be more coming for months—years—_decades!_" He tore his gaze away from it, only to see the red dots reflected on the metal floor. His fists clenched and unclenched. "There's no way around it. I have to inform the Tallest. They need to know that—_some_one has committed a grave error."

He turned smartly to face his minions. Skoodge was halfway through a bag of salsa Doritos, Minimoose was upside-down on top of the other chip bags, and GIR was burrowing through them like a giggling metal mole.

Zim kept his head high, his eyes fierce, and opened his mouth to re-establish communication with the Massive.

A realization came out instead. "Where's Flip?" Skoodge stopped crunching to perk his antennae. "Wasn't he upstairs before the attack?"

Skoodge swallowed before speaking. "I thought he was in the labs with you."

"But he hasn't been down here all—"

Zim stopped, then screamed. Skoodge screamed with him.


	10. Breaking Barriers

Flip leaped at the bounty hunter blocking the way out of the alley. His Pak legs scraping the asphalt were enough to make the hunter turn, and he knocked Flip aside with the rocket-rifle's barrel. He hit the bricks of one of the buildings and bounced to the ground, metal extensions sprawling.

He shoved himself up with a wince as his Pak legs retracted. He raised his head, gasped, and did a tuck-and-roll between the bulky hunter's legs before a freshly-fired precision rocket made contact with the building.

The MacMeaties exploded into flames, fed by copious amounts of meat and grease, some of it still human-shaped. Flip crouched and covered his head with his arms as charred brick fragments fell, but looked up a couple seconds later when he didn't get blown away by any shockwaves. He stood and turned—the power-armored hunter had taken the full brunt of the blast.

The hunter lurched backward, and Flip skittered hastily out of the way as the large alien hit the ground, precision rocket-rifle clutched in all four arms. The armor on his torso and limbs had blocked the heat and shrapnel with only soot and scrapes to show for it. His exposed face hadn't.

Flip ran out of the alley, away from the smoking wreckage, away from the sizzling knot of meat inside the bounty hunter's helmet. He locked his eyes straight ahead, hoping he wouldn't hear those power-armored legs thudding up from behind.

When they happened anyway, it didn't sound like that four-armed, two-legged guy. It sounded more like lots of guys with lots of legs. Flip risked a glance over his shoulder, shrieked, and ran faster.

The hulking menace had thankfully stayed down next to the demolished MacMeaties. But the explosion had attracted dozens more suited-up and weapon-wielding hunters. Some were taller, some were stouter, some slithered on weird appendages, and every single one was way bigger than Flip.

As he tried to outrun the bounty hunter deluge, some of their voices carried over the noise. "Izzat him? Izzat the guy?!" Talking about his teacher, no doubt. Flip knew for a fact that visitors didn't come for a friendly chat with that many guns. That also meant he couldn't go back to the base to hide—not without leading every single hunter right to Zim.

So he went with his only other option. Flip ducked through a fence hole GIR had made, buying himself some time as the hunters had to deal with the white picket barrier. It was already splintering behind him as he jumped over a big-wheel trike and ran under a leaf-strewn trampoline. He jumped the chain-link fence on the other side, and crawled under the neighbor's parked SUV.

Flip got to his feet on the other side of the driveway, panting. He hadn't quite been in the heart of the city when he'd started running, but GIR's playful trek had spanned several blocks. He didn't wait to catch his breath, though, and went around the side of the house into the street.

He darted his head left, right, then ran to his destination. He'd slowed to more of a loping stagger by the time he reached the house's front walk, and knocked on the door.

Some noise came from inside, and the door opened partway. Flip shifted one foot back and stared up at Gaz, as she squinted down at him. She had one hand on the doorknob, and the other holding a wireless game controller. Flip couldn't find the words to ask someone that dark and scary for help.

Power-armored stomping came from around the side of the Membrane house, and Flip froze. Gaz snapped her gaze up, whipped her arm back, and threw the game controller over Flip's head. He ducked in reflex, then looked behind him when the controller collided with something metal.

The closest bounty hunter, standing just past the garage, stared down at his primed-to-fire plasma bazooka, now jammed with an eight-button input device.

"Oh, mother," he muttered.

The gun exploded in his face, catching several other hunters behind him. Gaz stood to one side as she opened the door wider. Flip jumped inside before Gaz slammed and double-locked it behind him.

Flip turned his wide, disguised eyes up to Gaz again. "Help me!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Who did _you_ piss off?" The living room blinds, drawn to shut out sunlight, trembled from the stomping of alien bounty hunters skulking around outside.

"I dunno!" Flip scurried away from the door and pressed himself flat against the wall, opposite the window. "They wanna kill Teacher, so I can't go back to the base."

"So you led them _here_," Gaz said, watching the blinds rattle against the panes. "Instead of the painfully obvious glowing green house you live in?"

Flip's eyes bugged out, and he whispered, "They'll _hear_ you!"

The blinds rippled away from the windows as something large banged against the front of the house. Flip screamed and curled in a ball. Gaz strode to the window and yanked down an opening in the blinds, revealing one of the power-armored hunters backing up for another go.

"It'll be _your_ fault if that bozo destroys my house," Gaz said, voice raised enough to carry a hint of threat.

Flip covered his head, still curled up. "But what am I supposed to do?!"

Gaz fixed him with a squinty brown-eyed glare. Behind her, the blinds fell still. "You can face what's out there. Or you can get cornered, and _die._"

The living room window burst inward, glass shards and mechanical wall bits flying past an unflinching Gaz. Pieces of the Membrane house pinged off the TV and furniture.

"What's going on?" Dib called, thumping down the stairs. "Gaz, are you playing that dumb space marine shooter agai—_woah_ my god."

Gaz stepped off to one side as the dust cleared. A giant black and silver rocket-fist sat in the wrecked wall. It retracted on a thick tether cord, and clanged back onto the end of a bounty hunter's blocky, gauntleted arm. He swaggered in on tiny legs with rocket-fists on both huge arms, sneering through a tusky underbite.

"C'mon out, Zim!" the top-heavy alien rumbled. "I got a nice cool box for ya." A smaller arm swung out from behind his back, holding a compact white cube, perfectly sized for an Irken's head. Cold white fog leaked from within.

Dib picked his way over glass and metal shards in his socks. "Zim's not even here, so stop destroying my house!"

Flip stood, catching Dib's attention. He only had one second to give the human a pleading look before the hunter pointed a rocket-fisted hand at Dib.

"Sounds like ya know the guy. Tell me where he is!"

Dib glared at him. "I'm not your psycho alien GPS."

The hunter's upper lip curled back, almost like a smile. "Think you're funny, huh." His armored fists gave off a high-pitched whine as their engines primed for rocketing. "I'll letcha keep thinkin' that."

Flip's legs refused to do anything but tremble. Dib stood between him and yet another huge, scary alien after his teacher's life. Teacher trusted these humans.

Two simultaneous clicks sounded as the catches for both rocket-fists released at once, blasting off in flares of cosmic fuel. Flip didn't hear their engines as his focus locked itself on the metal fists closing in on Dib.

Flip shoved his arms back against the wall, throwing himself forward as he dove between Dib's legs. He didn't wait for his own legs to cooperate, and rose up on his lower Pak extensions, high enough for the upper ones to meet one rocket-fist each.

He swayed in spindly suspension for the longest instant. Then two Pak lasers fired, ripping the protective shells off the rocket-fists to expose the combustion devices within.

They sputtered outside their destroyed confines, and exploded.

* * *

With no time to dodge, Dib brought up his arms to shield himself—right before something green and purple popped up between him and certain doom.

He shut his eyes as the fists detonated, flying back into the wall. The explosions were small, but close enough to lift him with their concussive force.

The tiny Irken thumped into his chest, and fell into his lap. Dib waited until some of the ringing in his ears went away before he risked opening his eyes. The beefy alien had been sent flying as well, straight out the gaping hole in the front of the house.

Flip, who had saved Dib's life in an act of unwitting payback, was completely limp. His spiky-banged wig was coming off, one notched antennae peeking out from underneath. He wasn't as scorched as Dib expected, but then again, Irken skin was surprisingly flame-resistant.

Dib flicked a piece of rocket-fist casing off his shoulder, gathered up the smeet, and stood. Flip, barely seven weeks old, showed no response as Dib turned him over to check for signs of life.

Gaz walked out from behind the couch, her explosion shield. "I think he's dead."

Dib stared down at the Irken draped over his hands. "He can't be dead," he said, panic worming its way into his voice. "Zim would murder me."

Gaz pointed at the hunter's scorched corpse decorating the lawn. "I meant _that_ guy."

Dib peered out into the yard. Other bounty hunters milled about, apparently unaware that anyone was still alive inside. A pink force-field flickered across the jagged wall gap; the temporary barrier built into the house had activated.

Dib went to the explosion-blackened couch, and sat Flip in one corner. "Come on, wake up," he said. "You _have_ to tell me what's going on. What did Zim do to get _this_ many aliens out for his blood?"

A soft, short tone came from inside Flip's Pak. Dib glanced at it, then at Flip as the smeet's eyes cracked open. He flinched awake a second later, looking around wildly.

Dib held his hands up. "Easy. You exploded that guy. It's okay now."

"No it's not." Flip was breathing kind of fast. "There's like a million of 'em!"

The Pak continued beeping. Dib said, "Are you gonna answer that?"

Flip tried to look at his Pak in horror, but his neck couldn't turn that far. The most he achieved was a frightened gawk over his shoulder. "Teacher's calling. But I can't answer it here. They'll trace the signal back to the base." His Pak kept beeping.

"I know," Dib said. "We can use Tak's ship. The cloaking should allow you to answer from inside of it undetected."

The tension leaving Flip's body was almost tangible. "Where is it?"

Dib stood, and led Flip to the garage. Gaz followed as well, prompting Flip to walk a little faster.

The trio piled into Tak's ship, which stayed tethered to the house's internal electronics while dormant. Dib shut them inside, powered it up, and hit the cloaking key. Nothing changed for them, but the glowing fuchsia _CLOAK_ signal meant the ship had vanished as far as anyone outside was concerned, occupants and all.

Flip removed the beeping handheld communication device from inside his Pak, and pressed a button on it. It projected a rectangular holo-screen, with Zim dominating the middle.

"Flip! Why weren't you answering?!" Zim's voice was the loudest thing Dib had heard since the rocket-fist explosion. "This is no time to be playing with humans."

Flip, wedged between the Membrane siblings, shook his head. "I came here 'cause I can't go back to the base. The bounty hunters will follow me."

"_Can't_ is the worst excuse!" Zim said. "I trained you to be a death machine, only slightly less unstoppable than me."

"But they're _huge!_" Flip squealed, clutching the communication device. "And they keep shootin' explodey things at me!"

"_And_ my house," Dib butted in, glaring at Zim's projection. "You owe me a new living room. Why do they want you, anyway?"

"Not now, noise-hole!" Zim snapped. As Dib sat back, muttering "Noise-hole?" to himself, Zim focused on Flip again. "Bounty hunters from all over the universe are after my sweet cranial meats for some unfathomable reason. I've put the base on lockdown, but that'll only last as long as the reserve power does."

Stomping came from outside the dim garage. Dib glanced back at the door leading into the house, hoping none of the bounty hunters realized the temporary force-field in the wall wasn't the shocking kind.

"Even if I canceled the lockdown, there'd be too many hunters in the area for you to..." Zim gave the ship's occupants a thoughtful little squint. "Are you _sure_ this call isn't being monitored?"

Flip nodded. "Uh-huh. We're cloaked inside Dib's spaceship." To his right, Gaz grumbled, extracted Flip from between Dib and herself, and plopped him on Dib's knee.

"That's Tak's—nevermind," Zim said. "Here's what we'll do. We'll both come out of hiding, so we can meet half-way."

Flip shrank back on Dib's thigh.

"The plan will fail unless you work with me," Zim said.

Dib looked down at the tiny alien sitting on his leg, staring at the device rather than the holo-screen. In their current situation, Flip didn't have time to be too little or too scared.

The smeet met Zim's steely gaze sooner than expected. "Okay. I'll do it."

Zim gave him a nod. "Good. We'll meet at these coordinates." He messed with something off-screen, and Flip's Pak made a soft beep. "Now get there as quickly as possible. Be speedy, be stealthy, and don't stop for _anything._"

"Roger," Flip said, sitting up straight and throwing a salute. The transmission ended, and Gaz uncloaked the ship.

"Wait!" Dib said as Flip slid off his knee and hopped outside. "We can just keep the ship cloaked and fly you there."

"Nope," said Gaz. "I'm not dealing with this crap. I was in the middle of something important before the bounty hunter brigade ruined everything." She pushed a button, and a spare game controller and console emerged from beneath the flight controls.

"How long has this thing had _video games?_"

"Since I was ten. Right after I upgraded the weapons." Gaz picked up the controller, powered up the game, and said, "Get out."

One of the ship's metal tentacles whipped inside, coiled around Dib, and tossed him out. He got to his feet, rubbing his face, and looked up. Flip was stretching an arm to open the door leading back through the house.

"Wait a minute." Dib cleared the distance to Flip in a few strides. "You probably shouldn't go that way." Flip peered back at him, still reaching for the doorknob. "Let's go through the lab instead. We can get outside through the staff entrance."

Flip turned to face him. "You're coming, too?"

"Well... Gaz took the only real safe spot. And I might as well." He stepped away from the door toward one of the garage walls. He shoved aside a set of shelves lined with eviscerated electronics, revealing a blank wall with an embedded keypad in the middle. He punched in 70457, and the wall vanished into the ceiling with a _shwink_.

"This way," Dib said, starting down the stairs to the underground tunnel connecting Membrane Labs to his house.


	11. You Had It Coming

Zim and GIR phased into the street behind the cul-de-sac, their one-way teleportation complete. Quick looks left and right confirmed zero hunters on the narrow lane. Even if there were any, Zim thought, they'd never recognize him and GIR in their brilliant everyday disguises.

He ran low near a line of hedges, waving for GIR to follow. His robot obeyed with a squeak in every dog-suited step, but that was honestly the most silent he could be. Maybe the hunters wouldn't think to notice it.

Skoodge and Minimoose were still in the base. The other Irken had protested, but Zim shut him up by giving him something to do. Minimoose didn't argue with Zim's plan, because Minimoose knew better than random Invaders of Blorch.

Stomping came from up the street, and Zim froze. GIR continued walking, oblivious, until Zim yanked him into the hedges with him. Zim willed himself not to move as far too many twigs poked his torso, and GIR ate a bird's nest.

The approaching power-armored steps drowned out GIR's grass-and-eggshell crunching, and passed without incident. Zim took a slow breath in, then out, and extracted himself from the bush.

Radar and electronic spying on the hunters' conversations had confirmed that they wouldn't stop coming, until somebody got the reward. Such an obstinate deluge of money-hungry force had only one feasible origin. It was Irken leader tradition to sic every bounty hunter in the universe on anyone they wanted very, very dead.

The Tallest had been less than reasonable before Skoodge cut communications two weeks ago. The sudden change in treatment was still a mystery to Zim. What were they trying to accomplish by commandeering his base? Why send him a student to train if they didn't actually want Flip back?

The mounting questions were bad enough. When he thought about re-establishing communication to get answers, his guts twisted.

Zim stayed on the move, running along the sides of buildings, and darting from cover to cover. GIR, to his credit, kept up without a fuss—everything was a game to him.

Even though Zim already had a fantastic plan in mind, he hoped the Tallest would realize their mistake. Bounty hunter swarms were only sent to execute criminals committing the worst offenses in Irken society. War heroes deserved no such treatment.

Once he found Flip, Zim was going to contact the Tallest, and clear any misunderstanding. He couldn't proceed with the invasion under constant fire, and the hunters were making a mess of his planet. Earth was _his_ to destroy.

Sirens and smoke from fires burning somewhere accompanied Zim's arrival to the city's urban center. He crept between the spaces of parked and abandoned cars, edging closer to the rendezvous point.

* * *

Dib opened the staff entrance on the side of Membrane Laboratories just a crack, not even letting the doorknob squeak. He peeked through, then opened the door wider.

"All clear." Dib stepped outside. Flip hesitated at the doorway, gazing into the street with wide, wary eyes. "Let's get moving before they catch on."

Flip left the staff entrance, staying beside Dib's leg. If it wasn't for the lack of birdsong, and the sirens wailing in the background, it would've been just another nice day.

Dib scanned the area, watching, listening. "Where did Zim want you to go?"

"That way." Flip pointed down the road connected to Membrane Laboratory Drive, and took off running.

Dib ran to keep up, surprised he had to at all. Flip had tiny smeet legs, but scurried around incredibly fast. Long human strides didn't matter then, Dib thought. However, Flip's constant zig-zagging and ducking threw him off somewhat, especially when they hadn't seen any bounty hunters since they left the house.

With Flip in such a hurry, and Dib so busy trying not to lose sight of him, neither noticed how crowded the next street was. Flip darted into it, slamming into a collection of thin red legs. They didn't even quiver as Flip's small body bounced off.

The legs turned with little sucking sounds, all ten of them, until the front of the alien bounty hunter's giant round head faced Flip and Dib.

"Hey, it's him!" the red, ten-legged alien said with the mouth positioned at the end of their drooping proboscis. "It's the little green guy that blew up Smegley!"

"He got _Smegley?!_" a voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd. "That guy owed me fifty monies!"

One by one, the hunters turned to glare at Flip, a sea of angry eyeballs. Dib laughed, his voice cracking, before he scooped Flip under one arm and bolted.

"Hey!" Flip squirmed and kicked. "You're going the wrong way!"

Dib kept running. "I am _not_ turning around!"

Despite Flip's tiny fists and feet pummeling his side, Dib rushed deeper into the city. Taller buildings seemed to summon frequent run-ins with hunters. Dib fled immediately every time, but never without somebody calling them out first.

He gleaned random snippets of info this way—Smegley was either a good friend, or a total mooch in hunter society. They knew Flip was Irken, because Irkens were known for their shoddy disguises. Most importantly, Flip knew where to find the bounty head, making him the hunters' big chance at an Irken they were actually allowed to kill.

Dib nearly stumbled over the curb at an intersection. A ten-car pileup dominated the center. He ran his eyes up and down the creaking mess, trying to catch his breath, and looked away from the bloody arm poking out of a crushed convertible.

Flip twisted out of Dib's grip and ran into the intersection.

"Wait, stop!" Dib yelled without enough breath. Flip reached the pileup and deployed his Pak legs to climb. "We're gonna get trapped here!"

Flip stood atop the mangled vehicles and turned around on his extensions. Towering over Dib, he jabbed a finger downward and said, "But _this_ is the rendezvous point!"

"_What?!_ Seriously?" Dib gazed around. Hunters entered from every connecting street and alleyway, some clambering over the buildings to stare down at the intersection.

A bent street sign peeked out from behind the pileup. They were standing at the intersection of Berman and Wingert, right in front of the Shop-2-Mart Zim got all his disinfectant cleaner from.

Dib clawed at his hair. "That _stupid_ alien!"

"There he is!" a hunter shouted from one of the alleys. They pointed an amplified laser cannon at Flip, and fired. The smeet retracted his Pak legs, dropping just in time for the giant searing death-beam to singe the tips of his bangs.

The intersection erupted into a sea of lasers and ballistic fire from the surrounding bounty hunters, triggered by that first shot. Dib screamed and ran from the air heat-rippling around him. He'd almost made it to a dumpster when a rocket exploded on the asphalt nearby, throwing him into the street.

Flat on his back and dazed, he strained his eyes for an upside-down, crooked-glasses view of the ten-car pileup. Flip was scrabbling on all fours to squeeze through the cracked-open driver's side window of the taxi on top.

Dib rolled over with a grunt and shoved himself to his feet. Flip had picked a bad place to hide. Rendezvous point or not, Zim still hadn't—

"_Outta my way!_"

Dib turned before his brain processed the source, a disguised Zim bulling his way through the thickest-thronged path leading into the intersection. The alien tossed guys left and right with electronic gloves, not even touching them.

Firing beams from the square panel fingertips, Zim levitated hunters three at a time, then rammed them into each other, weapons-first. With all the lasers, plasma, and incendiaries the hunters were packing, Zim's stop-hitting-yourself strategy worked well in his favor. He smacked a pair of laser rifle users into a guy with grenades for hands, clearing space around him with the resulting explosion.

Zim dropped charred bodies onto cracked asphalt. "Step aside, worms!Intergalactic master Invader coming through."

GIR jumped atop the smoking hunter pile, and threw his stubby dog-suited arms upward. "Woo!"

Flip popped up in the driver's seat of the taxi to look out the windshield. He caught sight of Zim standing proudly in the street, and brightened. "Teacher's here!"

GIR was in the perfect position to get punted by a huge hunter with galvanized elephant-stompers for feet. The robot football-spiraled into the back of Zim's head at the exact right angle to pop off his contacts. He hit the ground hard and slid, power-gloved hands scraping and sparking against the asphalt.

A hunter yelled, "That's the bounty head!" Zim lifted his head in wide-eyed shock, wig slipping off to free his antennae. "Get 'im!"

His antennae waved from the collective rush of air from hundreds of guns swinging in his direction. He raised his damaged gloves at the hunters, but they only gave fitful sparks from scratched fingertip panels.

In the taxi cab, Flip gasped, and searched for a way to make the car go. Part of the wreck as it was, it was also on _top_ of the wreck, and nowhere near as damaged as the vehicles underneath. Flip spotted the key still in the ignition and, unable to find an obvious "Start" button, turned it.

The cab's engine roared. Flip jumped in shock, slipping off the driver's seat and onto the gas pedal.

Zim lowered his gloves and clenched his teeth. GIR responded to his master's peril by sitting on the ground next to Zim, hugging his legs to his chest, and awaiting sweet oblivion.

The taxi revved, and tore off the top of the car wreck. Zim peered up from the sea of guns as Flip flew screaming overhead, just before the car plowed into the hunter that had kicked GIR. It kept going, using the hunter's huge body as a battering ram to mow down every other bounty hunter crowded behind.

The car spun to a rubber-streaked stop at the end of the block, throwing the elephant-stomper guy through a thrift store display window. Body parts and shards of space armor clogged the wheel wells. The taxi's throaty idling continued for another moment, then went still.

Zim jumped to his feet, threw down his dead power-gloves, and grabbed his robot. "GIR! Distract them!" he said, and hurled GIR into the middle of the intersection. Zim dashed for the taxi, leaving GIR to his fate.

Dib decided to follow Zim instead of sticking around to watch. GIR said, "Look what I can do!" and pulled back his dog costume to reveal his robot head. The bounty hunters exchanged glances.

GIR popped the top of his head open to release a swarm of killer bees, transforming the intersection into black, buzzing agony.

The taxi cab's driver's side door creaked open with Flip leaning against it, and he dropped to the ground on all fours. After swaying to his feet, he shook his head to make the world stop spinning.

He focused on movement coming out of the intersection. Zim was storming up the street toward him.

Flip's insides clenched; he knew that look. He'd messed up somehow, bigtime. He hadn't been fast enough, hadn't hidden well enough, and he'd stopped too many times. If he'd done better, his teacher wouldn't have to put himself in danger.

Zim closed in with brisk strides—fists clenched, red eyes sharp, and mouth set in a hard frown.

Flip managed to stammer out, "I'm sorry," right before Zim grabbed him in a tight embrace.

It only lasted for a second, too brief for Flip to get over his shock and reciprocate. Zim set Flip down and said, "Good work, soldier."

Flip couldn't speak past his watering eyes and the warmest thing he'd ever felt.

Dib caught up with them, giving the moaning pile of mowed-over hunters a cautious glance. "Okay, so now what?"

"Next, we find shelter," Zim said, peering around. They were far enough down the street to have left the thickest part of the concrete jungle, and a small park sat off to one side. Zim whipped a pointer finger at it. "_There!_" he declared, before running to the playground equipment.

Dib and Flip ran after him, and the three of them clambered into a tube slide. Dib folded his limbs into the small space, with Flip sitting pressed up against one of his shins.

Zim sat in the slide's lower opening. He took a portable monitor out of his Pak and activated it. Red code scrolled on a black screen for a few seconds, then the Tallest appeared.

Zim didn't wait for them to notice him. "My Tallest, you have to stop this at once! I've done _nothing_ to deserve this!"

Both leaders jerked to face him, their surprise immediately clouding over with contempt.

Zim inched closer to the screen on his knees. "They're destroying the planet! _My_ planet!"

Dib snorted. "It's yours over my dead body, lizard boy."

"Your faces are flapping, but I'm not hearing anything that makes sense." Purple had an airy smirk. He turned to Red and said, "Seriously, what's he talking about?"

"The bounty-swarm execution," Red supplied with some exasperation.

Purple's antennae perked. "Oh yeah! I was wondering when that'd happen."

"So it's true." Zim settled from desperation into something bleaker. "But—what have I done to deserve _any_ punishment?"

Red's tone was clipped; it was the one he reserved for demotions. "That's the price you pay for stealing Irken property." His spindly finger grew huge on-screen as he pointed at Flip. The smeet's Pak dug against Dib's leg as he tried to back away.

Zim glanced back at Flip, then said to the Tallest, "But you _gave_ him to me!"

Purple snickered. "Yeah, like you give trash to a garbage drone."

Zim stared through the holo-screen's flickering translucence for a moment, eyes searching the playground gravel.

He lifted his gaze back to his leaders. "This is about those so-called elite soldiers, isn't it?"

"_Actual_ elite solders," said Red, no less snippy than before, "who were ready to become Invaders as soon as they finished getting that smeet away from you."

"And ripping out its illegal little eyeballs," Purple added. Flip squeezed himself between Dib's leg and the curved inner wall of the tube slide. "How did you even _buy_ those? You're not a—" Red shoved a hand in Purple's face to shut him up.

"I received a distress signal from their downed ship," Zim said. "When I went to investigate, they'd already attacked my student, and tried to kill me. We acted in self-defense." He clenched his fists in his lap. "If I die, the invasion of Earth will end in failure. As an Invader, I must do whatever it takes to complete the mission."

Purple waved to get his personal space back from Red. "I think you missed the boat on that one. It's been like, what, three years?"

"Invasions don't run on a time limit," Zim pointed out. "Besides, you can't just _un_mark a planet. I'm staying here until the mission succeeds."

Red and Purple shared a glance. The former said at length, "Yeah... we never marked Earth for conquest."

"Because it's a _secret_ mission?" Zim said, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

"No." Flat and immediate. Red was past hesitation. "Also, you're staying on Earth indefinitely."

"Forever," Purple specified.

Red nodded. "Indefinitely forever."

Zim's entire posture sank. "What about... the mentorship program?"

Purple snorted and turned away, trying to get his laughter under control. Red shook his head slowly. "Wow. You actually believed that was a real thing."

Zim's world fell away. He couldn't deny the smug reality sitting right in front of his face.

Loud stomping thundered in the near distance; Flip gasped and clung to Dib's leg. In a low voice, Dib said, "I think they found us."

Zim snapped his head up to look behind him. Dib had pulled himself further up the slide, listening intently for the source and direction of the ominous stomping. Flip was huddled off to one side, gazing at his teacher for answers.

He looked the way Zim felt. If he was as lost and uncertain as an inexperienced student, how could Zim claim to be his teacher?

Zim braced his hands on the slide's thick plastic. The reality of three years, the hunters, and his tenuous hiding place took precedence over the reality fed to him on-screen.

He balled his gloved hands into fists, adding more scratches to the slide. Earth and Flip were _his_ reality.

He faced the screen again. The Tallest were chatting with each other, no longer paying attention to the call.

"My Tallest," Zim addressed them, and they jumped.

"I said cut the transmission!" Red snapped at an operator off-screen.

"But I did, sir!" the operator replied. "I'm pushing the button, see?"

Purple threw his hands up, voice pitched high with agitation. "Then why isn't he gone yet?!"

Zim steepled his fingers and gave them a nasty grin. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere."

Red faced him, eyes widening. "When you brute-forced the transmission, you..."

"This time I figured: why simply bypass call acceptance, when a few more lines of malicious code would bring the entire ship to its knees?"

"Right," Red bit out, regaining his composure. "I'm calling your bluff now, Zim. There's no way you're capable of something that elaborate."

"Call it whatever you want. The only way to end this transmission from your side involves a total system shutdown." Zim kept his tone casual, savoring the taste of role reversal. "All my life I've toiled away for the Irken Empire, advancing it towards greatness. I sense you've been... less than grateful of my contributions."

Red's lower eyelid twitched. He burst out, nearly apoplectic, "You killed two Tallests and nearly destroyed our home planet!"

"And that's why you're—no! Get your hand outta my face!" Purple fought with Red to get in the last word. "You've been exiled, Zim! We don't like you!"

"You can't exile me!" Zim countered, supremely offended. "I'm the greatest Irken Invader who ever lived!"

Red pulled Purple's hands out of eye-poking range. "You're stuck in the middle of nowhere with an exorbitant price on your head. I don't think you're in any position to—"

"I am Zim!" He raised a hand upward. "_And you don't deserve my excellence!_"

He swooped his finger down across the holo-screen, ripping the picture for an instant, before the hologram merged back in place.

Silence. Red and Purple exchanged bemused expressions. Then their antennae twitched as something buzzed, long and electronic.

"Sirs!" an operator cried out off-screen. "Weapons have gone offline!"

Red and Purple turned toward the voice. Another buzz went off, with a different operator saying, "Shields are down! Navigation controls are unresponsive!"

The Tallest swiveled about to follow each new report, their bewilderment growing with the volume of the alarms.

"Why is this happening?!" Purple shrilled, almost drowned out by the chaotic crescendo, and the screen went black.

The tube slide seemed to hum in the sudden silence. Zim deactivated the monitor, folded it up, and stored it in his Pak with methodical movements.

"Did you just assassinate your own leaders?" Dib asked.

Zim shrugged, his back to the human. "Nah. I just used that code to start a gradual shutdown of all systems on the Massive." He turned around to sit facing the slide's other two occupants. "I'm sure they'll figure out how to fix it before life support goes offline."

Flip's eyes grew even rounder as he brought his hands up to his face. "_Wow._"

Something huge impacted the ground outside the slide, close enough to bounce the Irkens a few inches. Dib peeked out the top of the slide, then ducked back in.

"They brought giant robots! Three of 'em!" Dib said. "They look like the one you tried to kill me with. The Mega... Murder... Megamurder thing."

"The Megadoomer?" Zim said, another stomp sending him upward again. "The Irken Empire severely restricts the use of that kind of military technology. Those bounty hunters would need approval from the Tallest well ahead of time to acquire even _one._"

Dib braced his arms and legs against the quaking. "Told you this was all a set-up."

"What're we gonna to do now?!" Flip's frightened voice reverberated in the small space. "Megadoomers have laser-propelled missiles!"

Zim produced a communication device from his Pak. "Skoodge! Did you power up the space station?"

"Yep! It's all ready," Skoodge said, far too calm and collected. "But what do you need it for? You haven't done anything with the place since—"

"Cease your nitpicking and beam us there!" Zim spoke over him. Something heavy slammed into the tube slide. The plastic tunnel buckled inward, shoving Zim, Flip, and Dib uncomfortably to one side. "_Now!_"

"Woah, uh, roger that." A pause. "Locked on location, firing transport beam."

A rapid succession of missile-launching noises came from the Megadoomer units outside. Flip screamed, digging his gloved claws into Zim's shirt and Dib's pant leg, all three unable to escape the crushed slide.

A bright red light flashed down from the heavens, and the playground exploded.


	12. Parting Gift

Zim, Flip, and Dib materialized inside the orbital space station. In spite of its disuse, every light was on, and all the control panels glowed, ready to operate.

Dib stood, no longer trapped in a cramped space with two Irkens pressed against him, and peered around. "I didn't know you still had this place." He'd escaped explosive death, but that didn't stop an old apprehension. Zim had held Dib captive here years before. If Gaz hadn't shown up, Zim might've decided to see what Dib's organs looked like on the outside.

While Dib gawked at the space station interior, Zim had already rushed to one of the larger consoles. A quick diagnostic on the containment chamber, Dib's one-time prison, confirmed everything was in perfect working order.

"Flip! Over here," Zim said. Flip ran up to him, though the smeet could scarcely keep his eyes from wandering over everything in slack-jawed wonder. "The remote object displacer is a powerful weapon," he continued, "_if_ you know how to use it right. For instance, it can transport _bees_ into the skulls of your enemies, removing their brains in the process. And they can't do anything about it."

Flip smiled. "Neat!"

As Zim showed Flip the various controls and functions, Dib started walking up to join them. Planet Earth loomed outside one of the station's enormous circular viewports.

Tiny black dots marred Dib's view of Earth. They grew larger as hundreds of alien fighter ships zoomed toward the station. "They already found us!"

Zim looked up at Dib's cry of dismay, glanced out the viewport behind him, and turned back to the console. "Pull up the object list," he told Flip. "We've got to start displacing objects inside their ships. What do we have that will cause maximum pain?"

Flip touched a button and swiped up from the displacer control panel, producing a holographic list. "All we got is a dead monkey, and a buncha rubber piggies."

Zim leaned over next to Flip to scrutinize the list. "Strange, I don't remember cleaning out the station." Then he muttered, "_Skoodge._"

The bounty hunter ships spread out in a pincer formation around the space station. Dib stayed transfixed on the viewport and said, "Don't you have anything else?!"

Zim shook his head. "This will have to do. Flip! Lock onto every ship, and give each one a present."

Flip hunt-and-pecked the controls to execute multiple lock-on commands. He swept the holographic item list left through the air, teleporting rubber pigs and a dead primate out of storage and into the containment unit. Then he collapsed the list down into the console's embedded touch screen, and swiped pig toy after pig toy onto the enemy ship icons. He didn't forget the long-bearded monkey corpse.

As Flip worked, Zim watched the containment chamber empty, then refill with new objects. Monitors, levers, and important-looking sections of control panels floated in suspension. A space helmet joined them.

One of the ships outside detonated with a flash of combustion. Nearby ships broke formation, trying not to get caught in the blast, only to crash into those struggling with malfunctioning controls caused by rubber pigs, and perhaps a desiccated monkey.

Some compact hyperdrive cores appeared in the containment chamber. Explosions ringed the area outside the space station, making the escalating chaos harder to see, so Zim summoned a floating radar. Red dots scattered across the monitor, most disappearing as the bounty hunters' ships exploded into pieces.

A few dots escaped the radar's range, but not Dib's notice. "They're getting away!"

Zim smirked. "A bounty hunter only runs when they've given up."

"But what about the ones camping your base?" Dib said. "Don't tell me you're planning to _stay_ up here."

* * *

A circular hole opened in the flat metallic panel where Zim's house used to be. Minimoose shot out of it, right into the crowd of bounty hunters loitering in the yard. They stared at the tiny moose's non-threatening nubs as he floated up to a stout alien sporting five-eyed shades and prehensile whiskers.

Minimoose handed him a crisp new printout. The hunter pored over the paper through round lenses, then told the others, "Dudes, there's a band of rebels camped out on Wastrel-6. Same guys who vandalized the Massive a while back."

A few of them murmured. Someone shrugged and said, "Sure, let's go for it."

"I call shotgun!" another guy called, and every hunter rocketed or teleported away. Seconds later, the cul-de-sac was silent.

Until Minimoose victory-squeaked, that is.

* * *

The space station's radar showed numerous ships leaving Earth's atmosphere, and flying out of the galaxy.

"So, even if they won't give up," Dib said, "you can just fabricate another bounty to get them off your back?"

"Yep!" Zim replied, all confidence. "All according to plan." He turned to stage-whisper into a handheld communicator. "Nice save, Minimoose." A squeak came from the other end.

Zim moved all the newly-displaced objects into storage, and led the way to the transporter room.

Dib blinked at the transporters, polished to a shine and ready to go. "Didn't you break all these?" Zim grumbled something about Skoodge. Dib shrugged and walked up to a transporter, then faced Zim again. "So, after that confession from your leaders... does that mean you're done with the whole invasion of Earth-slash-genocide of the human race?"

Zim kept his back to the human. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Earth-stink?" The arrogance in his tone was a bit diminished by the way he was looking down at Earth through the transporter room's viewport. Flip stood beside him, gazing through with his hands pressed against it. The smeet was completely taken by the sight of his birth-planet from space. "I'm not finished with this world. _Zim_ decides when that happens."

His eyes stayed fixed on the Earth. Dib knew better than to mistake it for any fondness over the place he'd been exiled to. At that point, Zim's continued existence was probably an act of rebellion.

Dib shifted his feet. "Well... are you gonna fix my house, or what? Since it's kind of your fault the living room got wrecked."

Zim spun on his heel, walked up to Dib, and shoved him into a transporter.

Flip detached from the viewport when he heard Dib's abruptly silenced squawk. "Where'd Dib go?"

"Back to the base," Zim said, waiting as Flip ran to join him by the transporter. "He'll leave on his own soon enough."

Flip stood before Zim, looking up to meet his eyes. "Are we goin' home now?"

Zim's antennae twitched at the word. It meant something different to him—but maybe it didn't have to.

"Of course we are." Zim stepped into the transporter. "We can't leave Skoodge in charge of _my_ base."

Flip jumped in with his teacher, and they both zapped home.

* * *

On a faraway planet with hot-pink sand sifting under a purple sky, the Resisty were tied up and surrounded by rough, weapon-toting, power-armored guys. Other bounty hunters looted the rebels' latest ship, a stolen intergalactic freight carrier parked nearby.

"We shoulda gone rebel-huntin' in the first place," a hunter said, voice muffled by his bull-horned mask.

"Yeah, for real," said a bony fast-talking type with triple-jointed arms. "Goin' after a criminally-insane Irken exile? Nope! Not doin' that again."

Lard Nar's horns twitched compulsively as he listened to the hunters, hemmed in by the electric resonance of guns primed and ready to shoot. "_Curse you, Zim!_"

* * *

_The end, for now. Thanks for reading._


End file.
